Butter, on countertop, softened with time
Sugar, stored frozen ‘gainst careless craving
Egg twins, room temperature, golden eyes wide
Dash of vanilla, razor-sharp sweet Continue reading
Butter, on countertop, softened with time
Sugar, stored frozen ‘gainst careless craving
Egg twins, room temperature, golden eyes wide
Dash of vanilla, razor-sharp sweet Continue reading
Act 1
(A moment of peace, the calm in the eye of the storm.)
Just a few short hours ago, there‘d been a clatter of metal against glass, the whine of motors rotating through a thick sludge, the wet thunk of an awkward body, a snip and rustle of evisceration, the rasp of metal on metal, and a clang of slamming doors.
“I think we’ve done all we can for now.” Karen wipes her brow and surveys the damage. “When are the troops supposed to arrive?”
Writing and Stuff by Chris Hall - Storyteller and Accidental Blogger
A.I. Art and Poetry
Independent Publisher of Poetry and Prose
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Live music in St Paul Minnesota
pagan songs & tales
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my views.. my way
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Stories and thoughts about being a queer girl geek in the 21st Century.