I've told no one these facts, but what occurred,
It felt so good I did not seek escape,
E'en as my flesh dissolved. Delight's the word
I'd use describing it. Though now I drape
My shapeless form on couches and must write
By dictating, how gladly I'd return
(If I but could), and no, I would not fight
To save myself. The reek, the rapid burn
Of its miasma have a strange allure
I long for even now, though I know well
Its consequence. The treasure is secure
While guarded by that creature! I'll not tell
Where it is found; the danger is too great.
No more adventurers should share this fate.
Fourteen rhyming lines of pure pulp every day in sonnet form. A different genre every day of the week! All sonnets by Kate Sherrod. Look for the first volume, coming to print in 2016!
Tuesday, April 26, 2016
Terror Tuesday: The Thief's Confession
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