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Decrepit Death

The cancer-spotted hand shook violently as it lifted up. The blue veins bulged in the frail man's neck and white forearms. The long, wispy hair trailing across the skin tickled me as he grabbed my arm with his long, bony, iron-gripped fingers. A heavy inhale revealing his crooked teeth and blackened mouth dragged through the silence, lasting a millennium. As his eyes clouded over, sweat dripping past his wiry eyebrows, I was almost relieved when he gave up his ghost.



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