Poetry

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"Nightfall" by havittaa
The caravans in the camp were brightly colored and ornate, sitting beside patched tents. As Grant approached his own tent, a door from the nearest caravan burst open. "Miz Amy?" Grant called, throwing his top hat on the dirt patch before his tent. "Grant, m'boy," Amy responded. The pink Kyrii fluttered from the steps of the caravan, a light bouncing from within it. Her blue eyeshadow looked gaudy under the full moon and her skirt drifted inches from...

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