Khronos, god of time,
A sacrifice I present,
To change the clock's hands.
How does it work?
More stories from Victoria Turnbull and writers in Poets and other communities.
Dirt beneath our nails, Victorious we all stand, Terra we defend.
By Victoria Turnbull3 years ago in Poets
sometimes I overflow like bubbles down the side of a glass blown in through a straw by an overenthusiastic child sometimes it's beautiful
By Lolly Vieira5 days ago in Poets
I float, but don't fly Can’t get that high Slowly I rise Carried by the wind Created by breath Reflecting the creator
By L.I.E5 days ago in Poets
The tales and whispers have proven true. The evil that has lurked in the shadows now prowls beneath the moon, taking on the flesh of our storyweaver in order to deceive our brethren.
By Amanda Starks6 days ago in Fiction
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