The Switch

Even now, after months of contemplation, she continued to agonise over whether she should reveal her identity. She yearned to tell her superiors that she was, after all, a she – beautiful and triumphant in the knowledge of her transcendence.


'A blood moon rising: my body writhing. His fists now lightning, striking without rain.' This poem was written in response to the writing prompt: write a poem without the letter 'e'. 


Beyond the lake of molten brimstone, voices accosted the Ferryman as he piled flesh onto wood. ‘Where am I?’ one squeaked. ‘I’m thirsty!’ another complained. The Harvest had only just begun.


I stride towards the worn mahogany counter, my fingers rummaging for the change that will fuel my addiction. A familiar, rich fragrance wafts up to me, engulfing me in lingering tendrils of earthy ecstasy. Mmm. Dark and doomed as a hollow soul; saccharine as the honeyed kiss of death. My new medication.

Level 13: The Obligatory Introduction

I'm Cadence, and I enjoy writing speculative fiction and ranting on the internet. I am not a people person, despise mornings and inspirational quotes, and adore dark fiction and artists who contribute to it. As you can already tell, I also share a special relationship with the Oxford comma. Welcome to my thirteenth attempt at a blog!

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