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Spilling Grains *recovered* by Jesse Printer Friendly

I believe this one was my attempt at fulfilling one of my own challenges?

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One bleary hint at consciousness is brought to brilliant clarity by the purifying force of pain. Her arm is broken. Her face feels bruised, and the oozing warmth is bittersweet; comforting the skin, but running from some bodily place - inverted, vital. It runs into her nose with the scent of gasoline, shattered glass, and pavement. For the next two agonizing breaths, tasting like tissue spiked through with bone, isn't it curious that a treatise on the lightning-gap of fractures fills a gasping mind. That shape being the string that binds together bone and glass and thoughts. Fracture. The thing becomes a string, as atop a bag of rice, binding. Before it is all ripped away in a stroke.here.


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