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Writer's pictureEvelyn Creon

Icy Dread


I felt the breathe and presence

Of something dark and dirty.

It sent a frozen chill

Up my heated body.


I shivered in the cold

That bit me in the back,

and whispered in the darkness,

"Please, give me one last chance."


I there than became aware,

Rime fingers on my shoulder.

I tried to move away

They grasped me much harder.


The warmth in my body

It slowly diminished.

As I stood there by myself

Ice forming on my body.


I endured the ice crawling,

Descending my arms and legs,

Taking lastly my heart.

That's when it stopped beating.


When the ice ceased crawling

It's sweet, eerie, voice said

"Ice is a pleasant color

To look at, upon your head."


No longer could I answer,

Nor could I cry-out in pain.

I stood there dead, with dread

Frozen upon my face.

written by Evelyn Creon


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