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The cauldron gurgled the witch's brew
beside the pit an empty shoe;
she watched the broth congeal and bubble
ran her palm against chins stubble.
The bats swooped down that they might sup
bloods harvest in communal cup;
the forest dark did close its eyes
but couldn't block the piercing cries.
The scent of stranger on spit turning
enticed the coven's hunger yearning;
they gathered up their knives and forks
and swarmed to feast upon the corpse.
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Writing Prompt |
The challenge is to write a poem that contains some form of horror or thriller. No more than 100 words. |
Author Notes
Thanks to Ambience studio for the art work.
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DALLAS01
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DALLAS01
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