by Mariah K Rowse
Thursday, February 09, 2006
Not rated by the Author.
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A Specter Of Misfortune
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Death is coming on a breath,
Riding the tail of the wind...
It seems the devil has more souls to buy,
The ice and the chill are setting in.
Knock once gently on the top of the door,
The horrid tapping of fingernails
Dragging, scraping, sliding,
All the way to the floor.
Maybe I can bide my time.
Just for seconds and nothing more.
“Open up, little whore...”
Thinner and thinner,
are the bones and skin...
A shudder goes right through my body,
As I know He’s coming in...
A voice is softly calling,
Death is going to win.
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|Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner
OMG, wouldn't you know a stormspinner would have to read something about a cellar door! Especially if they live in Texas, where there are no such THINGS as basements/underground shelters/cellars/hell, hidey holes.
I love, love love this one--strong beginning propels the reader into one wild ride! BRAVA!
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
May I track you?