Wednesday, 3 August 2011


In not much time, Evelyn knows she is going to die.

She could feel it.

Her skin loose, like a thick sheet of silky paper.
With every minuscule movement, air past through her, cooling
the woven tendons of her muscles.

Something crunched,
her bones no longer felt part of her body, instead they were
bags of sand, heavy and unmoving.

A slight panic starts to rise.

Evelyn looks over and sees her body next to her, now a brittle shell of crumbling
ashes, limp and distasteful.
However a little bit of elegance hangs onto the edges.

With one shaky hand, Evelyn touches herself.
For the last time.
The quirky jerk of her finger tips move hungrily
between her soft flesh, the fine hairs
tickling as she moves her hand deeper between her legs.
And with a gradual build, Evelyn climaxes.

Her heart now thrashing against her chest,

beating her soul into a pulp.

Her breath deep until it runs out.

Her lungs wrinkle as

Evelyn says good-bye.

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