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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/item_id/2235418-When-I-write/day/10-17-2020
by Xiea
Rated: E · Book · Other · #2235418
So when I write, I'll write.
For the rare times when I write. *Laugh*
October 17, 2020 at 5:22pm
October 17, 2020 at 5:22pm
#996121
Locked in a room too quiet to be true,
He felt his senses going numb.
It smelled like nothing, the tastelessness grew,
But he recognized the hand holding up a two.

There was no sound at all but that of his heart,
'Does it always beat so fast?'
As he thought, the hand lost another finger
He could now only see a very blurry one.

His only sense that could really sense
Began to tingle little by little.
And slowly, even the last finger fell,
And there was nothing left but a stump.

A stump of a hand with no fingers left
A stump of a man with no limbs left
The only sense that remained steady
Was that of his touch and his feel.

But he soon realized that he'd rather lose it too,
The room where one can merely feel was up to no good.
Suddenly a piercing cold encapsulated his form
And the feeling grew colder and sharper and colder
and sharper and colder and sharper and sharper and...

...until there was nothing left but insanity.

Notes: line count: 22
Written for the taboo words contest, October 2020
Theme: A ghost story
taboo words:
ghosts
spectres
creepy
haunting
fear
or any derivatives of these words




© Copyright 2023 Xiea (UN: maia987 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Xiea has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.

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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/item_id/2235418-When-I-write/day/10-17-2020