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Weekly Contest #252
The crisp night wind gently blows Michelle’s curls as she guides us through the sweaty people and cheap tents of the festival. The smell of decay and rot fills the air, as well as the melody of breaking glass and splintering wood. I would let her take me anywhere she wanted, from the top of a sepulchral valley to make love under the moon, to the bridge that cuts the sewer, watching her too early demise. Tonight, in particular, each and every step we take leads to the pinnacle of our last night together.“Smell of cotton candy, urine and ...
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