Saturday, 3 April 2010

Dance, Dance, Dance till they drop

fire[11]

dance

 

 

 

 

 

They are chandeliers, gold gilt stairs in great halls, clothes from the bloody fingers of seamstress blinded by candlelight. Living to a dead music that sways, rises and falls as they will.  We dance by the fire of the night, hips shaking and caressing for the flesh of the willing.

Random Word: Dancing at the revolution

Labels: , ,

1 comment:

  1. Anonymous3 April 2010 at 15:42

    what interesting dancing view,
    love the post!

    ReplyDelete

Welcome and thanks for dropping in. I'll pop by yours by and by.

This blog was inspired by First 50 words where you freewrite from a single word prompt. I use random words or images to create flash fiction in formats ranging from twitter postcards to short short stories.

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)