The excruciating seizure
bars Nelima-she was sauntering from the errands
Somebody skulking drags her into a dark nook
That daylight grin of uncle Ben
instantaneously turns a simper
He goes for the mouth-
The charred palm covers it airtight
The baffled Nelima throws last kicks of a dying horse
She is crucified on the roughened earth
He quickly unclips her bra
and unravels the threads of the smallest attire she is wearing-so roughly!
He forcibly shoves his starving stave
into the negligible space-she is subjected to agony
He micturates his dry spell,
Zips his slacks and turns his back
She is left void
with fresh acute pain all over her integral numbed torso
O, what a pity!
but she was sent on the errands?
About the Creator
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Gossamer
"Murray! Wake up!" He loved that period between waking and dreaming. To him, it was like entering another dimension; more of a dreamscape than dreaming itself. There was an otherness to it that he wanted to grasp and yet deeply respected the fact that it could never be his totally. This is what gossamer was; flighty and light, a wisp of smokiness, an idea suggested but not fully revealed, a slit in cloth, a copse in the wood.
By Rachel Deeming6 days ago in Fiction
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