Empty car at tunnel's end, tarnished chrome beneath streetlight's night, discarded weapon, a body prone, a ruby bruise upon a tortured cheek that was tortured no more, crimson clues painting noir lights. A waiting car waiting still, a radio's song stark in silent night, exhaust hovering, vengeance played, a lover's kiss thrilled to kill an abuser's fists he'd share no more, the radio's sax painting her last goodnight. ©November 2017, April 2022 Christina Anne Hawthorne
Christina Anne Hawthorne
Alive and well in the Rocky Mountains. I'm a fantasy writer who also dabbles in poetry, short stories, and map making. My Ontyre tales are an alternative fantasy experience, the stories rich in mystery, adventure, and romance. Alternative fantasy? Not quite steampunk. Not quite gothic. In truth, the real magic is in those who discover what's within.
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