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Quinn Chapman and the Altar of Evil I

Quinn Chapman and the Altar of Evil The flames of Hades flickered off the rough hewn walls of the cavern as I stumbled my way deeper into the earthen maw. Acrid, black smoke invaded my eyes, blurring my vision and clouding my lungs. Dark voices shouted in a rhythmic chant somewhere beyond the hall of fire through which I now walked. My body was cut and bruised; my clothes turned to rags barely clinging to my sweat glistened flesh.  What maligned road led me to my current state of depravity? My mind flickered back to that fateful day in the warrens of Singapore, to one of the myriad of seedy opium dens lining the alleys. It was there that I found the remnants of the infamous Anglo explorer Sir Percival Covington.  I pushed back the shoddy veil of the curtain to find Sir Percival upon his back, clad in sweat-stained khaki and a weeks' worth of grime. So much for the hero of the British Empire. His glazed eyes alighted upon me, and a flicker of recognition danced across his ruddy face

Yet another theProse.com Challenge

Yet another theProse.com Challenge

The Challenge this time was 'Broken Screen". I went the poetry route with the idea that we need to untether from our screens and a broken one is just an excuse to do that. Even if it is a costly one...

Untethered

Phone laying prone

on the stone

Fear drawing near

reaching that is dear

Broken screen has spoken

tech is only a token

Dare to fly bare

Without a care

Free from thee

Take some time off from technology once in a while. I guarantee you will feel better and unburdened. Remember, most of the social media influencer people are using tricks of the camera to make themselves look perfect and they only take pictures of the best parts of their lives. Your life is just as good!

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