top of page
Search
  • Writer's pictureTweakUnique
    • Oct 17, 2018
    • 1 min read

Witch is Which

It started as an unpleasant itch, grew into a tiny twitch that she wished would go away, *sigh* but there aren’t any fairies left today.

The tremors shook, the fevors grew, no one knew what to do: fetid boils burst upon her; gangrene goo sapped her color draining life milk to gaul; power with purpose, she’ll have it all.

Think you’ve nothing left to give? She’ll find something… don’t worry, you’ll live.

0 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Where gun shots blaze – an explosion of feathers Daffodil petals Knife wounds fester – aurora borealis rainbow colors When explosions ring – harps pluck purity elasticity Calamitous comets ingenuity

Held within modern cinema is the same fantastic idea; except the fantasy is now computerized and super human powers are CGI’ed. “We want to be the hero,” said everyone, worldwide; although there are

bottom of page