A Prose Poem/Prompt 5 Hour 4

A gasp escapes me at the sight of it. An ugly winged thing. The orange, a delicious contrast to the darkness beneath it and that above it. That monstrosity, spindly legs, touching the orange pulp. Dark wings, stand as if pinned on its back. I can feel fear ready to scream. It tickles the back of my throat. If it flies I will scream holy hell and miss the moment. Its ugliness is somehow, enchanting, I think to myself. I move in closer, fascinated. I zoom in, ready to scream if it opens its wings, and snap the picture.

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