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(Yet another) Challenge of Inspiration 5
I came to a realization, after the 4th, that the first challenge of inspiration is inherently up to me. Apparently, 4's phrases weren't terribly inspiring, so that's on me. Hopefully this one will go better. Use the phrases below in a unique story or poem which begs a rejoinder of some kind from other Prosers. Responses need not be entered directly into the challenge--feel free to compose your response as a regular post, then put a link to it in the comments of the original piece so we can all find it. One winning original entry and one winning response entry will be blessed with a life-changing $5 prize! That's a whole pizza at Little Caesar's! (Or half a salad... somewhere... where people eat salads.) ______________Here are your challenge phrases: _______________ at your doorstep, Hate's last breath, carry on, alternate truth, the undertaker's dream, backward curiosity, nearing the End of Days, unnatural motives, I think of scales, forever in a ____________ Have fun! And no, "have fun" is not one of the phrases. Ugh... I know at least two of you are going to title your entry Have Fun just to mess with me. You know what? I don't care if you have fun or not--just do the damn challenge!
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kadelebg
• 27 reads

The Undertaker’s Dream

Daylight faded, slumber called him into the night,

The undertaker rested, his work now out of sight.

His dreams took morbid turns, as they always would,

Of caskets, graves, and teary eyes— things he understood.

Along a dreamscape's road he walked, tombstones stood for miles,

Shovel clutched, he chose a plot, began to dig a while.

This grave is for himself, he dreamily realized in surprise,

Hate's last breath at your doorstep, in his "Here Lies" eyes.

All and through the evening, his digging did not cease,

Carry on, carve out the hole for tomorrow's new release.

No escape or help, only, I think of scales of truth—

That his life would end right here, not any fountain of youth.

As alternate truth vied, forever in a rush towards his finale,

Nearing the End of Days awaited without dally.

Not just the undertaker's dream—

But unnatural motives there to guide him,

Backward curiosity the reason,

His role a corpse to be would bind him.

On waking he was caught, with his hand in his own till,

The grave before him, really, his own coffin soon to fill.

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