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CotW #64: Write about the most hilarious thing you have ever witnessed. The most eloquent, elegant, entertaining entry, ascertained by Prose, earns $100 and stays atop the Spotlight shelf for six straight days. Feel free to invite friends, distant family, even strange acquaintances to play this challenge with you anonymously. Please use #ProseChallenge #itslit for sharing online.
Written by twistofrhyme

Matthew and Angela

(Disclaimer: Names have been changed, locations omitted, to protect the identities of the innocent.)

Once upon a time there was a monster. It was lurking, hunting in the park at night. A light mist fell upon the scene. Low fog obscured the ground below the ankles. 

"Fresh meat!" the call of evil intentions echoed through the trees, pricking up many a demonic ear. Stomachs growled, werewolves howled, screams of the innocent followed. The monster smiled.

Sheltered from the moonlight by the luscious canopy, I watched.

A set of teens walked, cautiously, through the dimly lit park. Shouts of the damned preceeded them, drifting back their way from groups of "food" that went before. This added to their trepidation, as they tried to look in every direction at once, laughing nervously. So far, the strategy had worked, though it was impossible for them to actually see everything.

The monster nodded, sniffed the air, and wrinkled a nose. These were ripe for the picking, indeed. Silencing the binding chains once again, the night-stalker slithered through the darkness, scanning the tiny crowd for a likely target.

In the distance, a chainsaw elicited blood-curdling sounds from what bore an incredible aural resemblance to a tortured piglet. The group froze, whimpering in response. Urgent whispers hushed each other from within the huddle.* They listened. When nothing else seemed to happen, they tried to sneak, failing miserably, past a tree, anticipating something horrible to bounce at them from behind it.

The monster grinned, creeping, safely in their wake. Glee filled the veins at the "hushed" voices.* Silent feet ran up a nearby hill to signal the waiting demons at the "Gates of Hell". Anticipation nearly coaxed a whoop of enthusiasm, but I painfully squelched it, as I returned to the deceitful stillness of the trees. 

A half-dozen expectant necks craned to look around the trunk. Its shadow gaped at them without benefit of giant spiders, or the like. Relief mingled with confusion for a split-second before the whisper of a name tickled the nape of an already too anxious neck.

The scream was heard by dogs in the next town. The owner of the name sprinted into the night, leading the rest of the group, in record-time, through the final scenes of the haunted attraction, bypassing unprepared demons entirely.

The monster slunk after them, only slightly disappointed that someone else got there first. Recognition, however, filled me with unholy joy. I knew that growl. Target lost to the fragrant winds, I was content to bide my time. The hunt was on.

One member had grabbed the hand next to her, presumably dragging her boyfriend with her. Not looking back, she shouted for him to hurry, before the monster could catch up. But Matthew's answer - a lot less cocky than in the whisper-shouts a few moments ago, and a bit...soggy - came from further down the path. For some moist, yellow reason, he was a lot faster than the girls who were no longer in his company.** 

After recognition dawned, she risked a glance at what was attached to the hand she was holding. Eyes of a stranger flashed a reflection of her own fear at her. She dropped his hand. Four members of the group were lost to the unknown ahead - including her cowardly (pretty sure at this point EX) boyfriend - but at least she wasn't alone in this godforsaken place.

The monster suppressed a rueful chuckle. I returned to take my place. The noisome Matthew was no longer interesting. I lowered my mask to hide the smirk, and froze, watching my new goal head my way.

The man had fashioned a clear trash-bag into a makeshift poncho to keep dry in the pseudo drizzle. She would likely think twice about wearing white to a venue in the park again. The girl - a bit more angry than scared - turned to walk straight into a prop she hadn't noticed stand in the path before. She bounced off the dummy, and would have landed in 

the mud, if the last member of her group hadn't caught her.

"Thanks!" she straightened her skirt, and turned to kick the thing in the shin. "Whoever put that thing there should be sued," she grumbled.

"Right!" the guy agreed as she walked around it. "Stupid --"

A rush of movement, the sound of chains, and a strangled cry got her full attention. The dummy had the man in a choke-hold, stared straight at her with the hollow eye-holes of the blank mask it wore, and nodded amiably to her as its victim dropped, limply to the floor.

She stared, mouth open. A step backward brought her in contact with another obstacle that had not been there a moment ago. "You shouldn't kick the set, Angela," the demon's voice whispered. She spun around, saw nothing, and turned again. The dummy was gone.

The guy in the poncho slowly got up, she screamed when she saw his face covered on blood. He grinned. More of the goo dribbled from his chin as he moved toward her in unnatural spurts.

Angela tripped, falling backward onto something, trying to get away without taking her eyes off the apparent zombie. He stopped, cocked his head to one side, lifted a hand, and beckoned her to him with one outstretched finger. She shook her head vehemently.

The ground, however, seemed to obey him, because Angela was lifted closer to the zombie. She whimpered.

I was rubbing my shin where she'd kicked me, trying so hard not to laugh when I peered around the tree. It was a painful, dirty, ungrateful job to scare the wits out of people. I still don't understand why anyone would pay you to do so, but there we were. The hilarity still outweighed the inevitable concussions from people not watching where they went. Seeing double at this point only added to my amusement when the thing Angela had fallen onto, slowly straightened up to bring her face to bloody face with the plant***.

My beastly colleague was making faces at me all the while. This wasn't helping the pain of swallowed laughter. She was so transfixed by the zombie's apparent magical powers that 'fight or flight' took a backseat to 'deer in headlights' until she was once again standing on her own two feet.

The beast behind her turned to face the zombie in front of her. He hissed in her ear. Angela bolted.

I belched my bottled guffaws into my mask while the masters of illusion dissolved into a muddy, laughing heap of demonic accomplishment. That's not something you see every day - even in our line of work.

*Fear speaks to us - usually in urgent little whispers, like "I'm gonna lose it.", "Shut up, Angela!", "Dude, you're such a scaredy ca-- What was that?!", "Man, you guys'll jump at anything", "Damn it, Matthew! Stop that!", "Shh! I thought I saw..", "Shh!", "SHHH!!!"

Don't underestimate the ears of the dead, or the powerful spy we keep in your own voice..

**There is a reason this park is haunted by a certain Au de Sewer, come All Hallow's Eve. I have learned, through observation that the ghost of many a would-be "macho" male, more interested in making fun of the girls than protecting them, is to blame for the odiferous cloud that seeks vengeance for this behavior. (It sticks to the demons as well, but not nearly as long, and we keep a color-coded scoreboard behind the scenes.)

***monster, incognito

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CotW #64: Write about the most hilarious thing you have ever witnessed. The most eloquent, elegant, entertaining entry, ascertained by Prose, earns $100 and stays atop the Spotlight shelf for six straight days. Feel free to invite friends, distant family, even strange acquaintances to play this challenge with you anonymously. Please use #ProseChallenge #itslit for sharing online.
Written by twistofrhyme
Matthew and Angela
(Disclaimer: Names have been changed, locations omitted, to protect the identities of the innocent.)

Once upon a time there was a monster. It was lurking, hunting in the park at night. A light mist fell upon the scene. Low fog obscured the ground below the ankles. 
"Fresh meat!" the call of evil intentions echoed through the trees, pricking up many a demonic ear. Stomachs growled, werewolves howled, screams of the innocent followed. The monster smiled.
Sheltered from the moonlight by the luscious canopy, I watched.

A set of teens walked, cautiously, through the dimly lit park. Shouts of the damned preceeded them, drifting back their way from groups of "food" that went before. This added to their trepidation, as they tried to look in every direction at once, laughing nervously. So far, the strategy had worked, though it was impossible for them to actually see everything.

The monster nodded, sniffed the air, and wrinkled a nose. These were ripe for the picking, indeed. Silencing the binding chains once again, the night-stalker slithered through the darkness, scanning the tiny crowd for a likely target.

In the distance, a chainsaw elicited blood-curdling sounds from what bore an incredible aural resemblance to a tortured piglet. The group froze, whimpering in response. Urgent whispers hushed each other from within the huddle.* They listened. When nothing else seemed to happen, they tried to sneak, failing miserably, past a tree, anticipating something horrible to bounce at them from behind it.

The monster grinned, creeping, safely in their wake. Glee filled the veins at the "hushed" voices.* Silent feet ran up a nearby hill to signal the waiting demons at the "Gates of Hell". Anticipation nearly coaxed a whoop of enthusiasm, but I painfully squelched it, as I returned to the deceitful stillness of the trees. 

A half-dozen expectant necks craned to look around the trunk. Its shadow gaped at them without benefit of giant spiders, or the like. Relief mingled with confusion for a split-second before the whisper of a name tickled the nape of an already too anxious neck.

The scream was heard by dogs in the next town. The owner of the name sprinted into the night, leading the rest of the group, in record-time, through the final scenes of the haunted attraction, bypassing unprepared demons entirely.

The monster slunk after them, only slightly disappointed that someone else got there first. Recognition, however, filled me with unholy joy. I knew that growl. Target lost to the fragrant winds, I was content to bide my time. The hunt was on.

One member had grabbed the hand next to her, presumably dragging her boyfriend with her. Not looking back, she shouted for him to hurry, before the monster could catch up. But Matthew's answer - a lot less cocky than in the whisper-shouts a few moments ago, and a bit...soggy - came from further down the path. For some moist, yellow reason, he was a lot faster than the girls who were no longer in his company.** 

After recognition dawned, she risked a glance at what was attached to the hand she was holding. Eyes of a stranger flashed a reflection of her own fear at her. She dropped his hand. Four members of the group were lost to the unknown ahead - including her cowardly (pretty sure at this point EX) boyfriend - but at least she wasn't alone in this godforsaken place.

The monster suppressed a rueful chuckle. I returned to take my place. The noisome Matthew was no longer interesting. I lowered my mask to hide the smirk, and froze, watching my new goal head my way.

The man had fashioned a clear trash-bag into a makeshift poncho to keep dry in the pseudo drizzle. She would likely think twice about wearing white to a venue in the park again. The girl - a bit more angry than scared - turned to walk straight into a prop she hadn't noticed stand in the path before. She bounced off the dummy, and would have landed in 
the mud, if the last member of her group hadn't caught her.

"Thanks!" she straightened her skirt, and turned to kick the thing in the shin. "Whoever put that thing there should be sued," she grumbled.

"Right!" the guy agreed as she walked around it. "Stupid --"

A rush of movement, the sound of chains, and a strangled cry got her full attention. The dummy had the man in a choke-hold, stared straight at her with the hollow eye-holes of the blank mask it wore, and nodded amiably to her as its victim dropped, limply to the floor.

She stared, mouth open. A step backward brought her in contact with another obstacle that had not been there a moment ago. "You shouldn't kick the set, Angela," the demon's voice whispered. She spun around, saw nothing, and turned again. The dummy was gone.

The guy in the poncho slowly got up, she screamed when she saw his face covered on blood. He grinned. More of the goo dribbled from his chin as he moved toward her in unnatural spurts.

Angela tripped, falling backward onto something, trying to get away without taking her eyes off the apparent zombie. He stopped, cocked his head to one side, lifted a hand, and beckoned her to him with one outstretched finger. She shook her head vehemently.

The ground, however, seemed to obey him, because Angela was lifted closer to the zombie. She whimpered.

I was rubbing my shin where she'd kicked me, trying so hard not to laugh when I peered around the tree. It was a painful, dirty, ungrateful job to scare the wits out of people. I still don't understand why anyone would pay you to do so, but there we were. The hilarity still outweighed the inevitable concussions from people not watching where they went. Seeing double at this point only added to my amusement when the thing Angela had fallen onto, slowly straightened up to bring her face to bloody face with the plant***.

My beastly colleague was making faces at me all the while. This wasn't helping the pain of swallowed laughter. She was so transfixed by the zombie's apparent magical powers that 'fight or flight' took a backseat to 'deer in headlights' until she was once again standing on her own two feet.

The beast behind her turned to face the zombie in front of her. He hissed in her ear. Angela bolted.
I belched my bottled guffaws into my mask while the masters of illusion dissolved into a muddy, laughing heap of demonic accomplishment. That's not something you see every day - even in our line of work.

*Fear speaks to us - usually in urgent little whispers, like "I'm gonna lose it.", "Shut up, Angela!", "Dude, you're such a scaredy ca-- What was that?!", "Man, you guys'll jump at anything", "Damn it, Matthew! Stop that!", "Shh! I thought I saw..", "Shh!", "SHHH!!!"
Don't underestimate the ears of the dead, or the powerful spy we keep in your own voice..
**There is a reason this park is haunted by a certain Au de Sewer, come All Hallow's Eve. I have learned, through observation that the ghost of many a would-be "macho" male, more interested in making fun of the girls than protecting them, is to blame for the odiferous cloud that seeks vengeance for this behavior. (It sticks to the demons as well, but not nearly as long, and we keep a color-coded scoreboard behind the scenes.)
***monster, incognito
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Write the most heartbreaking, saddest short story you can come up with in a single paragraph (3-6 sentences). 20 coins to the one that can make me cry.
Written by twistofrhyme in portal Flash Fiction

Taps

I watched his little body twitch with each discharge of the seven rifles, though his hand did not waver from its salute. The bugle, in perfect pitch, sang the memory of that demanding uniform to rest while the cloth was folded with precision. No four-year-old should have to accept that morbid triangle of honor in lieu of a parent, but there he was - so brave - your son. He held that flag so precious, as though it would someday bring you home. Looking at him today, sporting his dress-whites, at the same age you were then, I could almost think it did...

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Write the most heartbreaking, saddest short story you can come up with in a single paragraph (3-6 sentences). 20 coins to the one that can make me cry.
Written by twistofrhyme in portal Flash Fiction
Taps
I watched his little body twitch with each discharge of the seven rifles, though his hand did not waver from its salute. The bugle, in perfect pitch, sang the memory of that demanding uniform to rest while the cloth was folded with precision. No four-year-old should have to accept that morbid triangle of honor in lieu of a parent, but there he was - so brave - your son. He held that flag so precious, as though it would someday bring you home. Looking at him today, sporting his dress-whites, at the same age you were then, I could almost think it did...
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Write the funniest insult you can think of.
Written by twistofrhyme in portal Comedy

Sure, you're cute, but...

The "Ugly Stick" must've masturbated 'til it bled, before someone beat your personality with it.

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Write the funniest insult you can think of.
Written by twistofrhyme in portal Comedy
Sure, you're cute, but...
The "Ugly Stick" must've masturbated 'til it bled, before someone beat your personality with it.
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Once upon a time, there was a table that... Finish the sentence!
Written by twistofrhyme

Petrified Wood

Once upon a time there was a table that wished to be a writing-desk, though its wood fossilized in fear at the first story completed on the surface of its aging rings about a tree that had a wish...

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Once upon a time, there was a table that... Finish the sentence!
Written by twistofrhyme
Petrified Wood
Once upon a time there was a table that wished to be a writing-desk, though its wood fossilized in fear at the first story completed on the surface of its aging rings about a tree that had a wish...
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Write a haiku by reversing the rules as, 7/5/7 syllables instead of 5/7/5 syllables. Rhyme appreciated!
Written by twistofrhyme in portal Haiku

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The silhouette of her grace

sparkles in his eyes,

as they rest upon her face.

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Write a haiku by reversing the rules as, 7/5/7 syllables instead of 5/7/5 syllables. Rhyme appreciated!
Written by twistofrhyme in portal Haiku
See More
The silhouette of her grace
sparkles in his eyes,
as they rest upon her face.

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CotW #63: Take a much-loved Disney story, twist it into an adult, kick-in-the-gut tale. Poetry or Prose. The most eloquent, elegant, entertaining entry, ascertained by Prose, earns $100 and stays atop the Spotlight shelf for six straight days. Feel free to invite friends, distant family, even strange acquaintances to play this challenge with you anonymously. Please use #twistedtales for sharing online. Now lights, camera, fiction.
Written by twistofrhyme

The Drowning of the Little Mermaid

His reputation spoke of experience. Beautiful women surrounded him. Rumors did as well.

The girl could not picture her prince in the arms of one such as herself. She fairly dripped awkward innocence in her own eyes. That would never do to catch this man's interest, she was certain. The girl sought help from one who might teach her the ways of men. Madam would know...

Madam did know. That enterprising business woman had been longing to conquer that elusive prince ever since she'd seen him. She knew his wishes all too well. He had confessed that he held a girl in his heart whom he planned to surprise - one far removed from his celebrity world. When the young thing came to her, Madam was only too glad to help.

Harsh lessons awaited the girl's trusting nature. In the guise of instruction, Madam sold her to the highest bidder. The prince was invited to surprise his love in style, but walked in on her lesson instead.

Madam's toes curled with glee when he spit on the innocent in his wrath and turned to her very own lusty kiss in vengeance for this betrayal.

The girl, upon witnessing this, was thoroughly broken, in body, heart, and spirit. Reveling in triumph, Madam, having vanquished innocence and conquered the heretofore unattainable in one fell swoop, confessed her misdeeds to the prince.

The laughter of evil followed the man as he ran to his true love only to find her drowned in her own tears. Madam had aimed for one, but broken them both in the Devil's own bed of lies.

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CotW #63: Take a much-loved Disney story, twist it into an adult, kick-in-the-gut tale. Poetry or Prose. The most eloquent, elegant, entertaining entry, ascertained by Prose, earns $100 and stays atop the Spotlight shelf for six straight days. Feel free to invite friends, distant family, even strange acquaintances to play this challenge with you anonymously. Please use #twistedtales for sharing online. Now lights, camera, fiction.
Written by twistofrhyme
The Drowning of the Little Mermaid
His reputation spoke of experience. Beautiful women surrounded him. Rumors did as well.
The girl could not picture her prince in the arms of one such as herself. She fairly dripped awkward innocence in her own eyes. That would never do to catch this man's interest, she was certain. The girl sought help from one who might teach her the ways of men. Madam would know...
Madam did know. That enterprising business woman had been longing to conquer that elusive prince ever since she'd seen him. She knew his wishes all too well. He had confessed that he held a girl in his heart whom he planned to surprise - one far removed from his celebrity world. When the young thing came to her, Madam was only too glad to help.
Harsh lessons awaited the girl's trusting nature. In the guise of instruction, Madam sold her to the highest bidder. The prince was invited to surprise his love in style, but walked in on her lesson instead.
Madam's toes curled with glee when he spit on the innocent in his wrath and turned to her very own lusty kiss in vengeance for this betrayal.
The girl, upon witnessing this, was thoroughly broken, in body, heart, and spirit. Reveling in triumph, Madam, having vanquished innocence and conquered the heretofore unattainable in one fell swoop, confessed her misdeeds to the prince.
The laughter of evil followed the man as he ran to his true love only to find her drowned in her own tears. Madam had aimed for one, but broken them both in the Devil's own bed of lies.
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Write a poem about any body part. Go!
Written by twistofrhyme in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Manus Sensuales

Holding

Molding

They do it all

Teasing

Squeezing

How they enthrall

Tweaking

Speaking

Not just for the eye

Waving

Shaving

They cannot lie

Rolling

Cajoling

They can bring pleasure

Assessing 

Caressing

Moments to treasure

Soothing

Smoothing

They can make you moan

Slick

Flick

For that happy groan

Steal

Feel

They might direct bands

Slap

Clap

Give thanks for those hands!

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Write a poem about any body part. Go!
Written by twistofrhyme in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Manus Sensuales
Holding
Molding
They do it all
Teasing
Squeezing
How they enthrall
Tweaking
Speaking
Not just for the eye
Waving
Shaving
They cannot lie
Rolling
Cajoling
They can bring pleasure
Assessing 
Caressing
Moments to treasure
Soothing
Smoothing
They can make you moan
Slick
Flick
For that happy groan
Steal
Feel
They might direct bands
Slap
Clap
Give thanks for those hands!
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Two robots walk into a bar. What happens next?
Written by twistofrhyme in portal Sci-Fi

Warning: Last Call

The sign on the wall warns the patrons. Nobody who's stayed long enough was ever seen again by the other customers. An hour after last call, two robots arrive to sweep anyone not lucid enough to get out of the way, into a circle for an AA meeting. 

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Two robots walk into a bar. What happens next?
Written by twistofrhyme in portal Sci-Fi
Warning: Last Call
The sign on the wall warns the patrons. Nobody who's stayed long enough was ever seen again by the other customers. An hour after last call, two robots arrive to sweep anyone not lucid enough to get out of the way, into a circle for an AA meeting. 
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Are you a carpenter? A pole dancer? Do you work in a cubicle? Write a poem inspired by your work experience, good or bad. Lusting over a coworker? Anticipating the next promotion? Afraid of being out in the open? Write it all here!
Written by twistofrhyme

The Seasonal Evil (Run, Run, Run)

All Hallow's Eve comes to the park

where hanging corpses' last desire

sparked twisted evil in the dark

from trees with heat of devil's fire

Run run run away

screaming down the Trail

scarily scarily scarily scarily

Hoping not to fail

Hunting season hails arrival

mandrake roots spawn life of nether

Captured souls flail for survival

until all's left is skin like leather

Run run run away

screaming down the Trail

scarily scarily scarily scarily

Hoping not to fail

Empty shells yet learn to scream

freed from their traps by twisted death

Turn Nightmare loose in evil dream

to steal another spirit's breath

Run run run away

hoping not to fail

scarily scarily scarily scarily

chased by unearthly wail

scarily scarily scarily scarily

screaming down the Trail

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Are you a carpenter? A pole dancer? Do you work in a cubicle? Write a poem inspired by your work experience, good or bad. Lusting over a coworker? Anticipating the next promotion? Afraid of being out in the open? Write it all here!
Written by twistofrhyme
The Seasonal Evil (Run, Run, Run)
All Hallow's Eve comes to the park
where hanging corpses' last desire
sparked twisted evil in the dark
from trees with heat of devil's fire

Run run run away
screaming down the Trail
scarily scarily scarily scarily
Hoping not to fail

Hunting season hails arrival
mandrake roots spawn life of nether
Captured souls flail for survival
until all's left is skin like leather

Run run run away
screaming down the Trail
scarily scarily scarily scarily
Hoping not to fail

Empty shells yet learn to scream
freed from their traps by twisted death
Turn Nightmare loose in evil dream
to steal another spirit's breath

Run run run away
hoping not to fail
scarily scarily scarily scarily
chased by unearthly wail
scarily scarily scarily scarily
screaming down the Trail


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Write your favorite saying(s) that sounds great, but afterwards you think "Wait; didn't I already know that?" (i.e. "Today is the oldest you have ever been, and the youngest you will ever be.") You can make them funny, sad, depressing, uplifting, etc. (Nothing crude, please.) Tag me in the comments so I can read! @HashtagFiction
Written by twistofrhyme

Semantics

"Don't ask the farmer about sewing or the tailor about sowing, you'll just reap a mess."

This told me to 1. mind my spelling,

2. check my sources, 3. I'll need a scythe for my research..?

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Write your favorite saying(s) that sounds great, but afterwards you think "Wait; didn't I already know that?" (i.e. "Today is the oldest you have ever been, and the youngest you will ever be.") You can make them funny, sad, depressing, uplifting, etc. (Nothing crude, please.) Tag me in the comments so I can read! @HashtagFiction
Written by twistofrhyme
Semantics
"Don't ask the farmer about sewing or the tailor about sowing, you'll just reap a mess."
This told me to 1. mind my spelling,
2. check my sources, 3. I'll need a scythe for my research..?

4
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5
Juice
24 reads
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