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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?


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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