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Starlight This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

The stars twinkled brilliantly across the black, glittering sky; a wish stained across the white-and-pink cream cakes like a frosting, a vision in blue and harmony. A beautiful gaze flashes across the shadow of moon, the berries plump and still as they drop onto the thorn carpet. A white eclipse stalks the green stork and all the world is tranquil again, a landscape of trees filming the muddied earth. A grey horizon filters through the tall, splintered grass; a fog engulfing the crimson sky in a torrent of rainbows, in streaks of gold and teal and bronze.
A bluish white visage looms over the bloodied sunset, an amber moonlight of amethyst and black metal; and looming, looming silver. A forked tongue spits into the rays of meteors, and the star rushes through the maze like a rocket, an orange and red cylinder of fireballs.
Light blue coats the brown water banks; the thin weeds raising their hair in the air like spikes, pointed towards the sun like a compass; as the green, muddied pools refresh their watered catalogue, their resource of purity.
The rosy pebbles scatter amongst the stone platters; and the ruby-painted diamonds flash their eyelashes towards the light, an agitated dance of flight, of escape.
Gently, gently, nature fill the map of land with water, with life; with a loveliness that arises on the leaves like a blush, like a kiss of posies nestling in the sharp sunlight.
A light slash of colours illustrates a palate of dreams, a paintbrush dipped in a white page, in a black leather art book. The letters fall out of the suitcase of designs, softly, softly, drifts to the ground, a coffee-coloured, creased image of writings; of soul, of ink.
Outside in the peaceful park, the letters scatter as leaves around the gnarled forests; and the voice quietens to a violent nothingness, a pile of records thrust into the brown skip.
Deep, deep, in the rumbles of hills and the rushing, rustling sea; a swan squawks and bobs, bobs, bobs, over the white-tipped waves in a final seal.
The meadows close around the pink and violet flowers; and the black night can immerse the earth in nightlight again, and the starry intruders stamp a blaze of solitude over the watered plants.




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