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Written by EBJohnson

Lighthouses

You were gone before the morning came. 

Before tears and tides turned away the horizon

And crashed down around the ears of the 

Ones that came prepared. 

Silent they said and peaceful. 

That is how a fire passes into tomorrow. 

Of sunsets and shades, your song now

Plies into day and bends the hearts 

Around it. 

You were everything and nothing. 

In the end it is the truth that shatters. 

A consequence of being so invincible. 

A crucible. 

A trust. 

You'll remain in my heart forever. 

Though my words will never be meet 

To remember the truth of it all. 

You are the light. 

The beacon. 

The love that led us home. 

You'll be in my heart forever. 

Your name my secret charm

Till I come home again once more.

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Written by EBJohnson
Lighthouses
You were gone before the morning came. 
Before tears and tides turned away the horizon
And crashed down around the ears of the 
Ones that came prepared. 
Silent they said and peaceful. 
That is how a fire passes into tomorrow. 
Of sunsets and shades, your song now
Plies into day and bends the hearts 
Around it. 
You were everything and nothing. 
In the end it is the truth that shatters. 
A consequence of being so invincible. 
A crucible. 
A trust. 
You'll remain in my heart forever. 
Though my words will never be meet 
To remember the truth of it all. 
You are the light. 
The beacon. 
The love that led us home. 
You'll be in my heart forever. 
Your name my secret charm
Till I come home again once more.
#death  #pain  #bereavement 
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Written by JayChimera in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Expired.

Cradled in a smoke box.

I am mindless.

Still within a bone box.

I am vacant.

Wounded in an empty vessel.

I am weak.

Give me sleep.

For I crave my temporary death.

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Written by JayChimera in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Expired.
Cradled in a smoke box.
I am mindless.
Still within a bone box.
I am vacant.
Wounded in an empty vessel.
I am weak.
Give me sleep.
For I crave my temporary death.
#death  #sleep  #expired 
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Chapter 31 of Of Love, Loss & Loneliness
Written by Cross in portal Poetry & Free Verse

...---...

One final dawn finds me

Sending distress signals

From this derelict ship.

Adrift-

In uncharted seas.

Its hull is leaking

And the crew

Has long since drowned.

Yet, I remain;

At the helm of my doom.

Painting metaphors

On lifeboats.

Straightening portraits

On crooked walls.

Whistling merry tunes.

She froths, below;

My certainty.

My watery grave

And salvation.

Beckoning-

Like an old lover

Longing to embrace me.

No saviour

But Death.

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Chapter 31 of Of Love, Loss & Loneliness
Written by Cross in portal Poetry & Free Verse
...---...
One final dawn finds me
Sending distress signals
From this derelict ship.
Adrift-
In uncharted seas.

Its hull is leaking
And the crew
Has long since drowned.
Yet, I remain;
At the helm of my doom.

Painting metaphors
On lifeboats.
Straightening portraits
On crooked walls.
Whistling merry tunes.

She froths, below;
My certainty.
My watery grave
And salvation.
Beckoning-
Like an old lover
Longing to embrace me.

No saviour
But Death.
#poetry  #death  #storm  #LLL 
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I want you wonderful prosers to write a ghost story in rhyme (or prose), but it should start with the following line: "A house stands upon a shady hill..." let's see who can run a chill down my spine! Please tag me (@fortbruce) in your story/poem so I can know you entered into the challenge. Good Luck!!
Written by RowRow1990 in portal Paranormal

Smoke and mirrors

A house stands upon a shady hill,

An empty box left on the windowsill,

Sighs whisper through the lonely halls,

As blood drips down the white washed walls.

Screams in the night beg you to unveil,

The truth of the horror in this tale,

Bloody footprints lead to the truth,

Of a terrible life gone wrong in its youth.

In just the right light,

Something will appear in the corner of your sight,

Just a glimpse of blonde hair,

But enough to make you turn and stare.

There’s a flash of black, a beckoning sound,

Unwittingly following a hell hound,

A door made of wood pushed aside,

As you sign the death warrant on your own suicide.

Tremors of the past flash before your eyes,

You try to untangle the web of lies,

Watch in horror as her throat is ripped,

Torn apart as her body is stripped.

A young woman lying on the floor in just skin,

You know this isn’t a tale you’ll win,

You turn as their mouths fall to her chest,

Feelings so overwhelming you try to keep them suppressed.

Another woman enters and blood sprays,

The bodies tortured and abused for days,

Feasted upon by the beasts,

Who are waiting for the next bite of their feast.

Blue eyes flash as another is pushed to the floor,

Your screams echo as you run for the door,

Crying and screaming as you try to leave,

But inside you’re starting to grieve.

Another flash as claws pull out her hair,

An overwhelming feeling of despair,

A rip to your arm and the blood starts to well,

Exists all gone, you’re trapped in a hell.

Mouths lowering down to the bodies of the others,

Not to kiss and not to smother,

A wisp of light drawn out from their soul,

Leaving the bodies with a gaping hole.

Stare down at your chest and see smoke rise,

A hand to your mouth to stop the cries,

Unbidden they rise to a scream,

As you realise this is definitely not a dream.

Fingers close against your wrist,

They pull you in and force you to be kissed,

Your lips blister and skin burns,

As the shadows take it in turns.

Running away you leave bloody footprints on the ground,

Your screams now the only sound,

Into a room with only a box to see,

Until the door closes and in enters something beastly.

The mouth lowers again to yours,

Causing you to fall down on all fours,

A pain you’ve never felt as your soul is ripped away,

Added to the box you’re here to stay.

Your life drains as your throat drips,

You were drawn into a never ending script,

Now you’ll bring in more as they catch a glimpse of blonde hair,

And they turn to the window and stare,

And follow your journey through the haunted house,

Joining in a deadly game of cat and mouse.

A house stands on a shady hill,

A box full of souls on the windowsill,

Screams bounce around the murderous halls,

As a new body adds their mark to the blood stained walls.

© Rowanne S Carberry 16/04/17

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I want you wonderful prosers to write a ghost story in rhyme (or prose), but it should start with the following line: "A house stands upon a shady hill..." let's see who can run a chill down my spine! Please tag me (@fortbruce) in your story/poem so I can know you entered into the challenge. Good Luck!!
Written by RowRow1990 in portal Paranormal
Smoke and mirrors
A house stands upon a shady hill,
An empty box left on the windowsill,
Sighs whisper through the lonely halls,
As blood drips down the white washed walls.

Screams in the night beg you to unveil,
The truth of the horror in this tale,
Bloody footprints lead to the truth,
Of a terrible life gone wrong in its youth.

In just the right light,
Something will appear in the corner of your sight,
Just a glimpse of blonde hair,
But enough to make you turn and stare.

There’s a flash of black, a beckoning sound,
Unwittingly following a hell hound,
A door made of wood pushed aside,
As you sign the death warrant on your own suicide.

Tremors of the past flash before your eyes,
You try to untangle the web of lies,
Watch in horror as her throat is ripped,
Torn apart as her body is stripped.

A young woman lying on the floor in just skin,
You know this isn’t a tale you’ll win,
You turn as their mouths fall to her chest,
Feelings so overwhelming you try to keep them suppressed.

Another woman enters and blood sprays,
The bodies tortured and abused for days,
Feasted upon by the beasts,
Who are waiting for the next bite of their feast.

Blue eyes flash as another is pushed to the floor,
Your screams echo as you run for the door,
Crying and screaming as you try to leave,
But inside you’re starting to grieve.

Another flash as claws pull out her hair,
An overwhelming feeling of despair,
A rip to your arm and the blood starts to well,
Exists all gone, you’re trapped in a hell.

Mouths lowering down to the bodies of the others,
Not to kiss and not to smother,
A wisp of light drawn out from their soul,
Leaving the bodies with a gaping hole.

Stare down at your chest and see smoke rise,
A hand to your mouth to stop the cries,
Unbidden they rise to a scream,
As you realise this is definitely not a dream.

Fingers close against your wrist,
They pull you in and force you to be kissed,
Your lips blister and skin burns,
As the shadows take it in turns.

Running away you leave bloody footprints on the ground,
Your screams now the only sound,
Into a room with only a box to see,
Until the door closes and in enters something beastly.

The mouth lowers again to yours,
Causing you to fall down on all fours,
A pain you’ve never felt as your soul is ripped away,
Added to the box you’re here to stay.

Your life drains as your throat drips,
You were drawn into a never ending script,
Now you’ll bring in more as they catch a glimpse of blonde hair,
And they turn to the window and stare,
And follow your journey through the haunted house,
Joining in a deadly game of cat and mouse.

A house stands on a shady hill,
A box full of souls on the windowsill,
Screams bounce around the murderous halls,
As a new body adds their mark to the blood stained walls.

© Rowanne S Carberry 16/04/17
#horror  #poetry  #death  #fairytale 
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Written by chainedinshadow in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Puddles

It's been a year and a day

Since her daughter, that bright

Spot in her life, her everything, has

Left her, leaving a dark hole, and a deep

Pit where love, hope, and warmth 

Once resided. She knows her

Daughter didn't leave her

By choice and that every-

One dies, but it still

Hurts so much, 

She cries a lot

At night.

The rain came last night,

Leaving puddles on the asphalt,

Shimmering in their glory like a thousand

Puddles of molten silver, rippling and lapping over 

The edges of their confines, and she wonders 

If her daughter's soul wasn't like that,

Wanting to get out but never being

Freed from its prison until now,

And as she looks at the water,

She thinks of how her 

Daughter liked to 

Jump in them,

But now she is gone,

Her life is but the passing

Ripple on the surface of a silver

Puddle that remains unchanged by all

Her daughter as done. It hurts to

Think this, but she knows it is

True in the general sense, but

That even after the ripples 

Fade, her daughter's

Legacy lives on.

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Written by chainedinshadow in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Puddles
It's been a year and a day
Since her daughter, that bright
Spot in her life, her everything, has
Left her, leaving a dark hole, and a deep
Pit where love, hope, and warmth 
Once resided. She knows her
Daughter didn't leave her
By choice and that every-
One dies, but it still
Hurts so much, 
She cries a lot
At night.

The rain came last night,
Leaving puddles on the asphalt,
Shimmering in their glory like a thousand
Puddles of molten silver, rippling and lapping over 
The edges of their confines, and she wonders 
If her daughter's soul wasn't like that,
Wanting to get out but never being
Freed from its prison until now,
And as she looks at the water,
She thinks of how her 
Daughter liked to 
Jump in them,

But now she is gone,
Her life is but the passing
Ripple on the surface of a silver
Puddle that remains unchanged by all
Her daughter as done. It hurts to
Think this, but she knows it is
True in the general sense, but
That even after the ripples 
Fade, her daughter's
Legacy lives on.
#death  #grief  #daughter  #legacy  #puddles 
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Chapter 26 of Of Love, Loss & Loneliness
Written by Cross in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Your Remains

Though I try my best

To describe your absence,

The words continue to reject me.

I stretch my bony fingers,

But they dance mockingly

Beyond my trembling grasp.

It is my portrait that weeps for your loss;

For there are no more tears

Left in me to shed.

Thus, here I remain,

Laying on our dreamless bed;

Your fading fragrance

My sole company.

As Death has put an end

To your pain,

Life has just begun

Mine.

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Chapter 26 of Of Love, Loss & Loneliness
Written by Cross in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Your Remains
Though I try my best
To describe your absence,
The words continue to reject me.

I stretch my bony fingers,
But they dance mockingly
Beyond my trembling grasp.

It is my portrait that weeps for your loss;
For there are no more tears
Left in me to shed.

Thus, here I remain,
Laying on our dreamless bed;
Your fading fragrance
My sole company.

As Death has put an end
To your pain,
Life has just begun
Mine.
#poetry  #death  #loss  #LLL 
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Describe the moment death became real to you. Any style will do. Please tag me for the read.
Written by diffdelusions

I ate jam sandwiches with the crust cut off

and drank 2% milk—

the white coats gave you a gallon

odds of living

and you looked like you'd died

on the digital Oregon Trail

but you were the immortal

medical miracle,

fueled by chemo kryptonite.

After I left torts and contracts behind

I drank 13.5% alcohol

and ate microwaved pizza with the crust dipped

in ranch.

You sat me on the old couch—

the green fabric of dogs and deer,

tattered with time—and told me.

I went to Barnes & Noble,

but not to research the pancreas.

I bought a book of Mad Libs instead.

In the hospital room,

I ate Xanax and Percocet

and thought you were bionic—

wires and beeps and machines,

and a 12-inch TV

with nothing good on.

I didn't ask if the cafeteria had salad dressing.

I went to the movies by myself.

Doctor DoLittle said two weeks,

but you'd survived reduced-fat milk

before.

I was baking lemon cookies when I heard

the news.

I went in dry-eyed, steel-nerved—unfeeling.

You laid still,

skin taut, breath quiet,

and I looked out the window at the concrete

below

in disbelief.

I touched your limp and wrinkled hand.

I had seen death—

cooked bones in Betty Crocker pots,

buried bodies in Tennessee soil.

But I'd never seen Death.

The avalanche swept over me in June,

and the cold melted

into Niagara

by the eulogy.

I didn't drink Mayfield that summer,

but I ate crow.

This is a poem about my mother's ampullary carcinoma in 1994 and the pancreatic cancer she suffered from in 2013 as a result of the radiation from her previous chemotherapy. She was diagnosed with the latter in March 2013, shortly after I decided to quit law school, and she died in June 2013. As a disclaimer, I'd like to mention that I have two degrees in forensic anthropology, hence the work with human skeletal remains.

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Describe the moment death became real to you. Any style will do. Please tag me for the read.
Written by diffdelusions
I ate jam sandwiches with the crust cut off
and drank 2% milk—
the white coats gave you a gallon
odds of living
and you looked like you'd died
on the digital Oregon Trail
but you were the immortal
medical miracle,
fueled by chemo kryptonite.

After I left torts and contracts behind
I drank 13.5% alcohol
and ate microwaved pizza with the crust dipped
in ranch.
You sat me on the old couch—
the green fabric of dogs and deer,
tattered with time—and told me.
I went to Barnes & Noble,
but not to research the pancreas.
I bought a book of Mad Libs instead.

In the hospital room,
I ate Xanax and Percocet
and thought you were bionic—
wires and beeps and machines,
and a 12-inch TV
with nothing good on.
I didn't ask if the cafeteria had salad dressing.
I went to the movies by myself.

Doctor DoLittle said two weeks,
but you'd survived reduced-fat milk
before.
I was baking lemon cookies when I heard
the news.
I went in dry-eyed, steel-nerved—unfeeling.
You laid still,
skin taut, breath quiet,
and I looked out the window at the concrete
below
in disbelief.

I touched your limp and wrinkled hand.
I had seen death—
cooked bones in Betty Crocker pots,
buried bodies in Tennessee soil.
But I'd never seen Death.
The avalanche swept over me in June,
and the cold melted
into Niagara
by the eulogy.

I didn't drink Mayfield that summer,
but I ate crow.

This is a poem about my mother's ampullary carcinoma in 1994 and the pancreatic cancer she suffered from in 2013 as a result of the radiation from her previous chemotherapy. She was diagnosed with the latter in March 2013, shortly after I decided to quit law school, and she died in June 2013. As a disclaimer, I'd like to mention that I have two degrees in forensic anthropology, hence the work with human skeletal remains.
#poetry  #death  #cancer  #chemo 
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To celebrate the release of my new book, I am inviting you all to participate in a contest. The concept: Explore a person's struggle to come to terms with a strange, sinister, or surreal reality. This is a broad theme to encourage you to be as creative as you choose. Flash and full length stories welcome in horror, fantasy, surreal, or any hybrid genres. The only rule: Prose fiction only. Three winners will be chosen, who will receive 2000, 1000, or 500 coins + a signed copy of my collection.
Written by Snowshoerabbit in portal Fiction

Emptiness

Everything was — everything was gone. Yes — yes, everything was gone. Mother, Father, Milly, and Brandon were all gone. Uncle Jamie and Aunt Barb were gone. Oc — Octavia was gone. Everyone, no one was left. It was just me now. Just me and and an endless plain of black. Just me and this emptiness. Whatever this emptiness was. There were eight billion people, eight billion, and every single on of them was gone, it was just me. There were billions of animals, each and every one of them gone. Nothing was left. No food, no water, no shelter. Heck, would I need any of that wherever I was. It seemed like I was floating on nothing, there was nothing below me, nothing above. A single gray dot could be seen in the distance and I realized I was already treading towards it. It could be hours before I reached it, who knew how time worked here. There were no scientists to examine this place, no writers to make up worlds here. No inventors, no teachers, it was just me. The more I said it, the more I felt it, the weight on my shoulders that seems to push me down. The gray dot in the distance grew bigger and bigger until the shape was visible. It looked like — no it couldn't be — a gun. I ran, but no more speed was gained. Finally I reached it. I bent down and felt the cold metal against my hands. I held it out testing the weight in my hands. It would be so easy, so easy to end it. There was nothing here, there was no purpose being here. Then, without another moment of hesitation, I brought it to my head and shot. The world around me disappeared fading to white.

I opened my eyes, blinking, and saw their faces... all of them.

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To celebrate the release of my new book, I am inviting you all to participate in a contest. The concept: Explore a person's struggle to come to terms with a strange, sinister, or surreal reality. This is a broad theme to encourage you to be as creative as you choose. Flash and full length stories welcome in horror, fantasy, surreal, or any hybrid genres. The only rule: Prose fiction only. Three winners will be chosen, who will receive 2000, 1000, or 500 coins + a signed copy of my collection.
Written by Snowshoerabbit in portal Fiction
Emptiness
Everything was — everything was gone. Yes — yes, everything was gone. Mother, Father, Milly, and Brandon were all gone. Uncle Jamie and Aunt Barb were gone. Oc — Octavia was gone. Everyone, no one was left. It was just me now. Just me and and an endless plain of black. Just me and this emptiness. Whatever this emptiness was. There were eight billion people, eight billion, and every single on of them was gone, it was just me. There were billions of animals, each and every one of them gone. Nothing was left. No food, no water, no shelter. Heck, would I need any of that wherever I was. It seemed like I was floating on nothing, there was nothing below me, nothing above. A single gray dot could be seen in the distance and I realized I was already treading towards it. It could be hours before I reached it, who knew how time worked here. There were no scientists to examine this place, no writers to make up worlds here. No inventors, no teachers, it was just me. The more I said it, the more I felt it, the weight on my shoulders that seems to push me down. The gray dot in the distance grew bigger and bigger until the shape was visible. It looked like — no it couldn't be — a gun. I ran, but no more speed was gained. Finally I reached it. I bent down and felt the cold metal against my hands. I held it out testing the weight in my hands. It would be so easy, so easy to end it. There was nothing here, there was no purpose being here. Then, without another moment of hesitation, I brought it to my head and shot. The world around me disappeared fading to white.
I opened my eyes, blinking, and saw their faces... all of them.
#death  #alone  #end  #realization 
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Describe the moment death became real to you. Any style will do. Please tag me for the read.
Written by Syne

Down Below

Believing

Is not as easy when the truth is so deceiving

Sometimes we might deny what we have trouble conceiving
But many times denial is easier than healing


So leave me

In my world the way I still choose to perceive it

And maybe when the time is right I’ll choose to leave it

But at least for now just leave me to my grieving

Cause I can’t believe it

It can’t be so

I lost my love

She’s up above
And I’m down below

I can’t believe it

It can’t be so

I lost my love

She’s up above
And I’m down below

I’m weeping

In the darkness and I can’t do any sleeping

All my memories and thoughts just keep repeating

All it ever does is make my spirits weaken

Cause I can’t believe it

It can’t be so

I lost my love

She’s up above

And I’m down below

I can’t believe it

It can’t be so

I lost my love

She’s up above
And I’m down below

And briefly

My mind goes wandering off

And I find myself dreaming
In a place that’s temporarily relieving

I hear a voice I know, and this is what it pleaded:

"Believe me

When I say I’m always here, you just can’t see me

Where your eyes can’t see, your heart just needs to feel it

So keep on loving me, I promise I’ll receive it"

Oh I believe it

I know it’s true

You never left my side

But I always knew

Yes I believe it

I know it’s true

You never left my side

But I always knew

I always knew

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Describe the moment death became real to you. Any style will do. Please tag me for the read.
Written by Syne
Down Below
Believing
Is not as easy when the truth is so deceiving
Sometimes we might deny what we have trouble conceiving
But many times denial is easier than healing

So leave me
In my world the way I still choose to perceive it
And maybe when the time is right I’ll choose to leave it
But at least for now just leave me to my grieving

Cause I can’t believe it
It can’t be so
I lost my love
She’s up above
And I’m down below
I can’t believe it
It can’t be so
I lost my love
She’s up above
And I’m down below

I’m weeping
In the darkness and I can’t do any sleeping
All my memories and thoughts just keep repeating
All it ever does is make my spirits weaken

Cause I can’t believe it
It can’t be so
I lost my love
She’s up above
And I’m down below
I can’t believe it
It can’t be so
I lost my love
She’s up above
And I’m down below

And briefly
My mind goes wandering off
And I find myself dreaming
In a place that’s temporarily relieving
I hear a voice I know, and this is what it pleaded:

"Believe me
When I say I’m always here, you just can’t see me
Where your eyes can’t see, your heart just needs to feel it
So keep on loving me, I promise I’ll receive it"

Oh I believe it
I know it’s true
You never left my side
But I always knew
Yes I believe it
I know it’s true
You never left my side
But I always knew
I always knew
#poetry  #philosophy  #death  #love  #spirituality  #sad 
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Describe the moment death became real to you. Any style will do. Please tag me for the read.
Written by EstherFlowers1

Decapitated.

Out near the back fence we kept a muddy chicken coop full of chooks. We all helped to look after them; feed them scraps, collect the eggs and hold them as dad clipped their wing-feathers on one side. One day mum planned on making chicken soup so she asked dad to go get a chook ready. I was very small but I wanted to see how to do it, so I followed dad outside. He let me pretend to help carry a big bucket of warm water. 

We left the bucket by the wood-pile and headed down to the coop "You want to help me pick one out?"He asked. 

My face lit up "yeah!" I didn't quite understand that I wouldn't see her again, so picked my favourite hen. 

"Blacky!" I pointed to the big fat pretty black chook roosting in the corner. 

"Alright." Said dad. He caught her easily. She was a trusting hen. Tucking her under one arm, he carried her over to the make-shift chopping block; a round stump of unsplit fire-wood. He picked up the ax that was leaning against a near-by tree.

"Now it'll be a bit scary." Dad warned. "When I kill the chook it's body might still be moving around a bit, but that's just nerves, alright? Stand back while I use the ax, and then you can help me pluck it. Ok?" 

The ax came down.

The body ran. 

I toddled after, laughing. 

Then it slowed and toppled over.

I went to pick it up, and brought it back to dad. "Put it in the bucket with the feet facing out." He instructed. I did as I was told.

And then I saw Blacky's head on the chopping block. The eye was staring up, the neck feathers were standing on end, thick blood was leaking, and as I watched, her beak twitched open and her tongue spilled lifelessly out onto the wood.

"Can we put her back now?" I asked. 

"No darlin, we're gonna eat her." He explained. "You want to help me pluck the feathers?" 

Hot tears ran down my cheeks as I reached into the warm red water and tugged out a soggy black feather.

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Describe the moment death became real to you. Any style will do. Please tag me for the read.
Written by EstherFlowers1
Decapitated.
Out near the back fence we kept a muddy chicken coop full of chooks. We all helped to look after them; feed them scraps, collect the eggs and hold them as dad clipped their wing-feathers on one side. One day mum planned on making chicken soup so she asked dad to go get a chook ready. I was very small but I wanted to see how to do it, so I followed dad outside. He let me pretend to help carry a big bucket of warm water. 
We left the bucket by the wood-pile and headed down to the coop "You want to help me pick one out?"He asked. 
My face lit up "yeah!" I didn't quite understand that I wouldn't see her again, so picked my favourite hen. 
"Blacky!" I pointed to the big fat pretty black chook roosting in the corner. 
"Alright." Said dad. He caught her easily. She was a trusting hen. Tucking her under one arm, he carried her over to the make-shift chopping block; a round stump of unsplit fire-wood. He picked up the ax that was leaning against a near-by tree.
"Now it'll be a bit scary." Dad warned. "When I kill the chook it's body might still be moving around a bit, but that's just nerves, alright? Stand back while I use the ax, and then you can help me pluck it. Ok?" 
The ax came down.
The body ran. 
I toddled after, laughing. 
Then it slowed and toppled over.
I went to pick it up, and brought it back to dad. "Put it in the bucket with the feet facing out." He instructed. I did as I was told.
And then I saw Blacky's head on the chopping block. The eye was staring up, the neck feathers were standing on end, thick blood was leaking, and as I watched, her beak twitched open and her tongue spilled lifelessly out onto the wood.
"Can we put her back now?" I asked. 
"No darlin, we're gonna eat her." He explained. "You want to help me pluck the feathers?" 
Hot tears ran down my cheeks as I reached into the warm red water and tugged out a soggy black feather.
#nonfiction  #death  #chicken  #JustJason40 
12
3
9
Juice
58 reads
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