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She watched as they marched into the distance. She should have been with them. Merdan was. Now that she carried his child, though, it was impossible. How selfish would it be to go into battle while another life grew inside her?
Semal still wished she were with the army, though. At least there she would feel as if she were making a difference. The fighting was desperate; every soldier was needed. If nothing changed soon, there would be no time for raising children.
It was as if there were one of those contraptions that the humans used to measure time hanging in front of her, making her aware of every second with its infernal ticking. There were so many left until she would see Merdan again, and many more until their child would be grown.
And how many ticks would pass until peace finally came? Semal knew she was young, but time of that length was nearly unimaginable. She had the awful feeling, though, that it would not matter, that time was running out.
Semal still wished she were with the army, though. At least there she would feel as if she were making a difference. The fighting was desperate; every soldier was needed. If nothing changed soon, there would be no time for raising children.
It was as if there were one of those contraptions that the humans used to measure time hanging in front of her, making her aware of every second with its infernal ticking. There were so many left until she would see Merdan again, and many more until their child would be grown.
And how many ticks would pass until peace finally came? Semal knew she was young, but time of that length was nearly unimaginable. She had the awful feeling, though, that it would not matter, that time was running out.
Literature
Darkness
Still darkness creeps
Sudden movements leap
Shadows gracefully weep
Sadness within me sleeps
Literature
the ghost
I don't know what I'm waiting for,
because I am a ghost and yet
I sit on my hands and wonder
where you've been -
I walk the forest in circles,
the methodical crunch
of leaves beneath my feet
and I remember
that you made me feel small,
and alone. here I am, facing
this brilliant hue that is me and myself
and I am the ghost but somehow
you are haunting me.
Literature
Saturn Chantey
Melancholy means black bilis, black
Bilis. Finally you understand, unless you already had
When it ran up down, body body,
And from your veins blasted happy
Tiny cancers that became you.
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This was the hardest prompt to write.
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Comments3
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Interesting take on the prompt. I like the conflict here.