Eldmin held her tight about her waist – she could not breath against his strong arms. But he kept her upright for the next furies of pain. “Confess, confess, confess,” he whispered against the rush of blood in her ears, so his voice sounded as if on the other side of a waterfall. “Confess to what,” she pleaded. “To what,” she sobbed as the pain tore her skin from her bones. Again, he held her up, forced air into her lungs, life into her body. “Confess, confess, confess,” he commanded, his voice echoing loud inside her head like a clap of thunder. “To what,” she howled as her bones broke and crumbled. “To what,” she moaned as her spirit flowed out like her blood. Eldmin held her tight about her waist, but her body rocked forward. “Confess,” her wraith teased him, “Confess.”

Another stream of unconsciousness writing – the first sentence comes in a rush, like a tsunami of words. I try not to think and just let the words tumble and stumble onto the screen. Minimal editing, the raw writer’s cut, I guess for mlmm Photo Challenge # 144. image by: Natalia Drepina

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