I wrote this story in the style of Diken's, but I don't believe anyone can't accomplished his style of writing, and like I knew I would, I went completely in another direction. Yet, my teacher gave me a A+ so hope you like it.
The world awaits with a displeasure of a blissful joy. The stars sing the night’s dreams of those of love, the petrifaction of overwhelm by the darkest hour, of a tainted it window of a widow’s remorse. Night whispers death of an undying love, night utters pain of a painful action; night is the day of a widow’s putrefaction.
Wings so fairly crafted of tendrils of dark joy, clear of image of a simple structure, of a perfect crop of a bird. Bones stronger than iron, metal of steel, dominant to touch but fare to a caress struck. Eyes of fire, of the enchanting embers of a panther’s eyes, engulf with magic of the enigmatic night. Oh so fair the Black Widow of the night, that her love as no longer lived through the sick game life.
Golden blood that runs through her veins, such as fairy dust to spread. She weeps small diamonds of crystal clear, but don’t let her eyes full you, for she’s the Fairy Queen of the Tempest Night. Were dark things dwell, and death strides the earth. Oh, now she has lost her perfect love, no mercy, no compassion, or no clemency fills her with joy, for she will rip your heart upon and staked it to her throne.
Once the Black Widow fondled, once the Black Widow cared, and once the Black Widow loved, but now she has lost her more precious love. The world’s devotion of faith, the existence of her core.
BY: ALOUY MARTINEZ