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About This Author
My name is Joy, and I love to write. Why poetry, here? Because poetry uplifts its writer, and if she is lucky enough, her readers, too. Around us, so many objects abound to write about. Once a poet starts with a smallest, most trivial object, he shall discover that his pen will spill out what is most delicate or most majestic hidden inside him. Since the classics sometimes dealt with lofty subjects with a lofty language, a person with poetry in his soul may incline to emulate that. That is understandable. Poetry does that to a person: it enlarges the soul and gives it wings. Yet, to really soar, a poet needs to take off from the ground. Kiya's gift. I love it!
The Writing-Practice Journal
#785832 added June 29, 2013 at 4:39pm
Restrictions: None
The Twelfth Circle
Gustav cursed the day he had contracted wolf-leprosy when he was first bitten. His eyes hurt from trying to see in the light of the full-moon as his body throbbed in agony. Still he raked his gaze through the lush forest and the trees surrounding the clearing.

Oh, there it was, pinned on an elm tree, slightly crumbled: the list of eleven mystical circles. Gustav howled. The verdict was in his hands now. A twelfth circle would mean the existence of the world for eternity, together with Gustav, but if Gustav refused, Armageddon would be imminent.

Was eternal life worth his pain? Did he want to live through eternity, suffering excruciating pain during the full-moon each month? He shook his head and gawked at his mangy-looking paws. He couldn't stand on them, let alone draw a circle.

"Get up and do it, Gustav. Otherwise, it will be too late for us and for everyone."

Gustav raised his head to the she-wolf, the lovely Esmeralda, holding the ink blotter.

"I want to live, Gustav," Esmeralda pleaded, her voice ringing with urgency.

She was so beautiful, so kind, inside and out, as woman and wolf. A blast of adrenaline tore through Gustav's body. Yes, eternity, he thought. Esmeralda is well worth the pain twelve nights a year, even through eternity.

He pushed his paw into the blotter then on the list on the elm tree. The list fluttered, turned into a falcon, and flew away. Frozen in place, Gustav gazed after it.

"Are you coming with me or not? It'll be daylight in a few minutes," Esmeralda cried.

Gustav limped toward her, with eyes speaking of desire, yet hinting at mischief. Yes, she was worth it. She was worth all the pain.

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292 words

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Prompt: Write a story that includes the line: "Are you coming with me or not?" under 300 words
For: "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge

© Copyright 2013 Joy (UN: joycag at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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