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Smoke and Sin

The club was dim, a haze of gin and gold, where jazz ran slick like honey through the air. She stood in shadow, wicked, dark, and bold, red dress a warning--men still stopped to stare. Her cigarette burned low, a dying spark, a curl of smoke that whispered through the room. She met my eyes and smiled--slow, and dark-- a prelude to the kiss that spelled my doom. Her voice was silk, laced soft with bourbon heat, each word a lie that tasted rich and sweet. She dragged me close, a moth into the flame, and laughed as I surrendered to the game. The night grew cold, the music played its tune-- I turned… too late. She vanished with the moon.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2025




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Date: 5/6/2025 8:25:00 PM
With the moon and a sparkling star
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Alesia Leach
Date: 5/11/2025 12:17:00 PM
Such a beautiful image, Bias--thank you. That moonlit magic fits perfectly with the mood I hoped to evoke. I’m so glad it spoke to you, even in just a few words.
Date: 5/4/2025 11:45:00 AM
"where jazz ran slick like honey...a curl of smoke that whispered through the room...laced soft with bourbon heat." Masterful descriptions here Alesia. I believe Ann Rice would enjoy your storytelling. A real witch of wonder!...J.A.B.
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Alesia Leach
Date: 5/11/2025 12:11:00 PM
Justin, that’s one of the highest compliments I could ever hope for--thank you! I grew up soaking in the rich atmosphere of Anne Rice’s worlds, so to be compared in any small way is pure magic. I'm thrilled you felt the heat and haze of the piece--your words mean so much!

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