Tears

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She cries quietly in a corner, there is no violence, no words to cut, no cruelty to endure. But she can see the changes. She can see the hesitation in his words, the slight tremor in his voice. Age is wearing him away more quickly than they had hoped. She was almost a decade younger than him. Would she retire and be able to spend quality time with him, or would it be too late to have a life. One where they could be together like they once were, reading each others thoughts, finishing each others words.

It’s been a few years, but each day he has drifted into his own mind and out of reality. Falling deeper into despair and dragging her down too.

That’s why she cried.

Petals

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Just a simple ArtRage oils app drawing…..

I’m mesmerised by colours,

by petals shimmering in the breeze.

Water goes deep in the earth

and  shapes the roots

raises a stem,

Leaves unfurl

and a flower opens

petals pink and bright.

Birds and bees sip the nectar,

pollen mixes and seeds set.

Now the flower fades

But next year

another flower will bloom.

Eyes digitally drawn

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Don’t look at me like that. It’s scary, she said. The screen stared back, green glaring eyes and red scaled skin. Only the slow movement of its pupils indicated life. The screen had been blank up until a few minutes ago. A voice had said humans were under control by the Jranson Collective and if all people worked with them they would be spared destruction.

She scanned her phone. The same image was being sent to it. All computer services are in our power, said the staring eyes. Do not attempt to attack us.

What the devil can we do? She thought. Nothing came to mind, but maybe? She picked up the land-line phone, a steady dialling tone greeted her. Now what’s the Doctors number? she thought.

 

Trout pout

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Eyes, looking up from below

Bubbles, trickling from the waters depths,

A fishes mouth and gill’s

Scales with a metallic sheen

Jenny lurks below.

Hidden in the weeds

Pike like teeth behind those lips

Clawed hands stir the water

Webbed between fingers and toes.

Bubbles reflected in her eyes.

She sees the feet of a child,

Dabbling on the waters edge,

One grab and down it goes.

Jenny Greenteeth has struck again.