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Picture it & Write: Frost Fingers

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So I was ‘blog surfer’ when I stumbled upon Ermilia’s blog which hosts a writing prompt every fortnight I think. The link to it (picture it & write) is here. Hope you enjoy my first piece for the writing prompt group and constructive criticism is welcome.

Cold, damp fingers brushed her cheek and caressed her hair. She shivered as a unseeable soul walked straight through her, whispering strange words from an ancient language into her body. The words rolled around inside her head and swam down her throat until they reached her heart. She gasped as the lexical intruders latched onto her heart like a parasite and began to gnaw on her soul.

From the truck he watched the little girl stand agonizingly still, as though she was acting as a statue waiting for a predator to leave. In the eerie glow of the trucks headlights, he watched as her knees buckled beneath her and muscle spasms rippled through her until she sunk to the ground and her body flew away as dust. Horror gripped him and his breath came in short and sharp as he watched petrified and suddenly felt frigid fingers stroke his care-worn skin.

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Passing The Torch

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Old time is new time.

Your light is fading,

Soon it will not keep the torch alight.

As spring burns away winter’s sins,

The flowers begin to blossom.

Bringing with them new light.

Nature does not take pity.

Nothing will ever last.

It is the circe of life,

As your torch is passed.

By Sphrbn