Curse of Aurora

June 23, 2022

I stood along the sandy road, at one with autumn's spiteful rain, as still as the very graveyard from which I'd emerged. Though water droplets mercilessly battered my skin, I was more drenched in the despair than anything else. If it weren't for my piteous zest to set my gaze upon the northern skies, painted in aurora lights, perhaps, I would not have been deemed an outcast, banished from my own home and relegated to dwell amongst corpses. Blasphemy, the scribes of the town had called it, for no human could ever have such right or privilege—let alone, a wretch like me who comes from the ghettos of Montreal.

Miniaturised tombstones, dedicated to many faithful departed, held ground metres away from me, distorted by the distance. I was committing yet another unpardonable sin, escaping what was to be my new forever home. I was to rot in the graveyard for what little remained of my miserable life—no water, food and scarcely any sunlight. Then, I'd be buried in the same plot as my fellow deviants. But, oh, what a deviant I truly was! After one last glance down the rows of graves, I made my grand exit, scaling the wrought iron fence and dashing down deserted streets, as swift as  raindrops did through the darkened sky, when not even a soul was after me.

anything containing the following words in this order: drenched, aurora, blasphemy, miniaturized, and raindrop. (Honey_Cookies2009)


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  • June 23, 2022 - 5:52am (Now Viewing)

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