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Slivers of clammy mist sting my face.
I slam the hood of my car hard
Infused with frustration and rage.
The road is empty and shadows play within the shifting fog.
Fingers clasp my shoulder and hair prickles the back of my neck.
I turn, peering through the thickening air.
Wildly, I stare, searching for the hand, the arm, the very entity.
My throat closes as hands grip it but naught is there.
My hands beat wildly against the fog as my mind closes over the insanity of dying at the hands of nothing.


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Comments

The following comments are for "The Hand of Nothing"
by the demure 1

gripping....
You have the quality and style of an enchantress...although this is a very gripping poem, I think short horror stories may be your forte'! I wanted more!

-Lisa

( Posted by: scryer [Member] On: September 16, 2003 )

thank you
i feel unworthy of such praise. Poetry is a brand new style for me as I have always written fiction - not on this site though. I appreciate your encourgement.

( Posted by: the demure 1 [Member] On: September 16, 2003 )

Atmos
I liked the atmosphere you created in this poem. You can see that you enjoy creating fictional stories. If an author can create an immediate and tense atmos I always enjoy the piece. This was no exception. Great potential. As a reader: the poem and your comment has made me want to read your fiction.

( Posted by: Steve Murphy [Member] On: September 16, 2003 )

Great atmosphere
Damn fine. You had me in the first line.

( Posted by: viper9 [Member] On: September 16, 2003 )





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