Written by nine people between the ages of 11 and 55, in blue and black ink on one side of a ripped out page of a composition book, while sitting in lawn chairs under the yellow and white striped tent, being entertained by the Chimney Choir, which wasn't a choir at all.
Transcribed here by me in nine different colors. Remember, in an Exquisite Corpse, the writer can only see, and therefore respond to, the line right before his/hers, as the paper is repeatedly folded over as it passes from person to person.
NB: All spelling, line breaks, punctuation, and capitalization have been retained from the original.
"Am I really going to desicrate
this grave forever? Of course
I am."
I smiled as I lifted the shovel and
lowered it sharply on the grave
The body of the innocent fell
sharply into the freshly dug grave
Innocence was murdered. Without a care.
In one shake of a storm
A lonely crow burst through the clouds
Exploding into feathers and
dust, black as the darkest night
that flew into the air
Like a bird dropping on a
windshield.
