Wednesday, April 24, 2013

Undead - or may be not


The write-up is based on a sensitive theme and may be a little disturbing.

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She found it hard to concentrate on teacher’s monologue.
Her mind wandered.
To the ink on her back.
To the damp dungeon.
To the scratching of the pen.
To his fingers tracing the hemlines.
Then the fresh contours.
Then probing further, deeper.
To those seven days.
To the municipal trash-can where they had found her.
With only a mirror in her hand.
She still heard him, all the time
“Mirror mirror on the wall ...
You're the fairest of them all”
She shuddered.
She knew he still haunted the streets out there.
And, all she could do was hate butterflies.


















16 comments:

  1. What a provocative and visceral poem. It was well written. I am a new follower from the challenge. I am number 506 on the list

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    1. Thank you so much Melissa. Good to have you over.

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  2. Oh that last line- it really made the piece for me. Dark and well done.

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  3. Leaves me with a little fear of butterflies too!

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    1. I am sorry. Thank you for your visit Robyn but of late such happenings have been clouding our thoughts frequently.

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  4. So well done. I was a trauma therapist. It would be those little things that are most haunting.

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    1. Thank you so much Maggie. Coming from you, it means a lot.

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  5. Kind of like an abbreviated version of Lovely Bones.

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    1. Thank you so much for your kind words.

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  6. The ending felt like it should have been really powerful, but I didn't get it. Where did the butterflies come from that she would hate them? It's almost as though you saw the other image I wanted to use for this prompt.

    http://pinterest.com/pin/495677502707580719/

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    1. May be it didn't click this time. Thank you so much.

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Since every thought is a seed, I am looking forward to a delicious harvest.