Purple rain

She instantly regretted the decision she’d made in following Chuck out into the corn field. In a psychedelic haze it was an impossibility to distinguish him from the scarecrow, and the little hut where they’d fumbled previously, was threatening to eat her-whole.

‘No more tripping for me’ she sighed before passing out in the rain.

Written for one shoot Sunday over at one stop poetry

Today’s artwork provided by Sean McCormick

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24 responses to “Purple rain

  1. way cool!at least thats what my daughter would say!i haven’t attempted the 55 as yet,but this makes me want to give it a shot.very nice read!

  2. Love it, Shan! Perfect title, and the action in the poem lives up to it splendidly. Never trust a man named Chuckie who looks like a scarecrow(or is really short.) πŸ˜‰

  3. ooohh…very witty!! πŸ™‚
    He was compared to a scarecrow.. hehehe…poor chap! πŸ™‚
    As for those ‘fumbly trips’, hmm… (sigh)… time will tell πŸ˜‰

    Good one, Shan!! πŸ™‚

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