The Bandit by Ellie Turner

Peak of night.

Heart and veins pulsing in the dark.

First, a mirror -

sharp, cratered face staring back.

The moonlit mask begins with

powder and paint.

The sway of the brush,

softer, smoother.

Next, bold blue strokes

across the eyes.

The turquoise, the gold

makes the stare turn its victims

to stone.

Those features know

what it is to crack

and crumble.

And the skirt,

waves of emerald silk

skim the course hair of

a chiselled leg.

Running down to the ankles of

the outcast

and back again.


the chiming of heels

like bells in a steeple,

calling, calling.

Welcome to the jungle.


The transformation is complete,

but the revolution has just begun.


Created with images by eberhard grossgasteiger - "Autumn at night" • MaxWaidhas - "glass rain drip" • sandid - "moon clouds night"

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