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Literature Text
Everyone has two skeletons.
I can see them.
The first skeleton is the one everyone sees; the human body. The second one is something that only I can see. Every person has a skeleton following them, like a shadow that’s invisible to most human eyes.
It differs in size from person to person. Older people tend to have a larger one, kids normally don’t have any but eventually, when they get older, their second skeleton appears. There are a very rare few who don’t have any. They should count themselves lucky.
Sometimes, I happen to glimpse the second skeleton reach out to the first in a deathly touch. I can tell you, it is never a pretty sight.
I have my own second skeleton but I can’t tell when it will use its bony fingers to grace my body.
What is your skeleton?
I can see them.
The first skeleton is the one everyone sees; the human body. The second one is something that only I can see. Every person has a skeleton following them, like a shadow that’s invisible to most human eyes.
It differs in size from person to person. Older people tend to have a larger one, kids normally don’t have any but eventually, when they get older, their second skeleton appears. There are a very rare few who don’t have any. They should count themselves lucky.
Sometimes, I happen to glimpse the second skeleton reach out to the first in a deathly touch. I can tell you, it is never a pretty sight.
I have my own second skeleton but I can’t tell when it will use its bony fingers to grace my body.
What is your skeleton?
Literature
Leaves
Falling to the ground,
The life of the wooden trees.
The food for the souls
Fading away, lifelessness
Surrounding the sleeping trees.
Literature
Two Are One
As far back as he could remember, there had been two voices in his head. One was his own, his conscious, his inner thoughts. The other belonged to someone else.
In his earliest memory of the other voice, he was sitting in his playroom, surrounded by colorful blocks. He was wearing overalls and a teddy bear T-shirt. The baby sitter was laying on the couch, giggling girlishly into the phone, simultaneously twirling her hair and the phone cord. “No, Mommy! Stop it, Mommy!” When he looked around, he couldn’t locate the screaming. But it bounced around his skull, pleading for help. Confused, he pounced on the sitter, sobbing and
Literature
my surrender
Death is such a surreal thing. A whirlwind of emotions, a head full of memories coming back all vivid and piercing, making me laugh then cry then scream. I wonder if I’ll be able to hold onto to them afterward...Will they disappear completely? Will I be able to remember them at all, or be present yet unaware?
Something will live on in my magic. My mother said it was my spirit, my father said a part of my soul, the priestess said my life force, that piece of me that allows fantasy to become reality.
What I sacrifice today will allow the earth to keep turning, the sun to keep shining, for life as we know it to continue. The surrender of
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Just a different interpretation of skeleton in the closet. Inspired by Greg Ile's book Natchez Burning.
© 2015 - 2024 WindMeister8
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Could you be a little more specific?