excerpts
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Dusk 1
I have felt the air leave my body, wholly, as though a deep wind had been whipped out from my very spirit. I knew the last thing I saw. Big dissociative eyes, amber and bloodshot, like a hammer had hit my very windpipe with his gaze, those piercing eyes that have haunted me—now like an unsettling whisper. A frenzied phantom. An engorged ghost full of blood but no bones. Red lightning sinking into my throat as his talons gripped me tight. Too tight.
By Melissa Ingoldsby3 years ago in Poets
