whispered memory

Long hooked claws slide down the slate rock cliff


nail marks show where she had been

The downward direction of the free fall, a path marked by jagged lines

sometimes three sometimes five inconsistent lines now scar the face of the stone cliff


Energy felt as if a whisper in the memory of the wind.

what one professes to be, a pinnacle that can never be reached, lies told and believed

trust and integrity ground into dirt

The shadow image reverts back into darkness

leaving behind only the acrid smell of burnt flesh.

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