Tag: mystery
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Circle… #Poetry
Circle Old stories whispered on wet afternoons Do they contain a kernel of truth? Are the stones more than man has made? Late at night when the moon is full Energy pulled from the stones Blue flickering light Can the fate of Merlin be seen? Dancing in the circle? I see mischief by magic made……
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This week on Streets Ahead Book Promotion Club…The Curse of Time by M J Mallon #Mystery @Marjorie_Mallon
This week, over on MEWe, The Streets Ahead Book Promotion Club is focussing on M J Mallon’s wonderful story, The Curse of Time. Now on our reading list, and should be on yours too? A unique, imaginative mystery full of crystal magic-wielding, and dark elements. Fifteen-year-old Amelina Scott lives in Cambridge with her dysfunctional…
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Is it a Plane?
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I had awoken before dawn again and stood at my window, searching the velvety night sky for the first signs of dawn. That barely perceptible lightening of the blackness that seems to happen almost without warning. I found myself staring at a star, defiant in its lingering and as I watched, it seemed to…
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My Mind… #Poetry
My world is made of breadcrumbs Only there is no Hansel and Gretel in this story I know I’m not living in a fairy tale Everything I touch crumbles, harmony is lost My secret thoughts turn darker At times my spoken word is edged with barb wire I lose friends, family with my acid…
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#Writephoto ~ Web #Poetry
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Thursday photo prompt: Web #writephoto Inside the broken castle walls An ancient suit of armour stands empty Her silken thread weaving, time passing Long lost fairy tales hidden beneath her touch Great battles lose their meaning When our lack of immortality Can clearly be seen By a tiny arachnid, doing what she does best…
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Who was she?
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Her eyes black beads, her face skeletal Her bones lay in a crescent, the earth carefully swept aside. The copper of a turning leaf lay beside her hand. Dried berries, red once, now more like the shrivelled eyes of a dead badger. A thread of red cotton bound her wrists. Who is…
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Mirrors… #Poetry
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Steamy mirrors Dead fingers have written Your time is coming I wiped it away, my hand Touching the space Where death had written My hand felt strange Like touching an electric wire Shaking my hand did no good It began to itch Running it under cold water didn’t help The feeling grew…
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Trapped… #Poetry
Trapped For thirty-two years My face trapped inside an iron mask Royal treatment gives no comfort As guards bow on entering my cell Yet they make no attempt to rescue me from this torment my face, long forgotten yet my mind never ceases to work remembering each moment where I am meant…