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Ken Flyingheart's avatar

When Jonathan stumbled back through billowing ash, her screaming stopped. A deep calm spread. It was over. Her dark love was gone. 

Coughing, Jonathan bent over her. A pale hand rose to his cheek, fingertips sparking memories.

As her skin began to flake, she wanted to tell him not to cry. But the words withered and died, along with her.

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Mark Dolan's avatar

While I don't hate it the word wither is lacking

A word as foreboding as wither is actually just about nature

Nature is grand because nothing really dies just food for what's next

So the next time you fret about wither -- remember the glory of the next step

Nature recycles everything and the best is yet to come -- wither come hither

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