sábado, 24 de março de 2012

Taniwha stole my cake

The t.v was broken, it had tribal lettering carved into it with a spear.
Children played on the floor telling stories of spirit monsters.
The frightening whistle blew and the trees outside shook their leaves.
The children played with a strange looking puzzle, each piece scarred by a symbol.
The symbols seemed to darken and curve when joined, and when they all joined a terrible cracking sound emitted from it.
The children didn´t even flinch, somehow they knew they were safe.
Alas I was cut in half and for me there would never be anymore birthday cake.

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