Before we begin, you must check your skin. Be it crawling, itching, bubbling, or falling. Try to keep hold of it herein.
Would it be foreknown that from the gravestone would arise corpses of rot flesh and bone, it would have been said that most should have fled, although we all ended up dead.
It started with a chill that made many ill. Their skin would turn red and most were dumbfound, how fast it did spread and filled up the ground. All would groan and all would moan and all filled with dread, as more were dying and not staying dead.
We tried to hide but soon were found and those corpses needed a meal. We yelled and we cried when they'd surround to nibble at our heels.
2 comments:
Read anything in metre ALOUD to find your syllable count. Rhyme is only worth its form, which can be strung a thousand ways, so long as you build it Pleasant To The Ear. Prose is not visual.
I may try to make it better, although it was just kind of a game for me.
Post a Comment