They weren't family by blood, though they looked it. They all shared the same birthday, the same astrological sign, and the same hatred for the man who had brought them together. The women spoke little of the man even in private. It wouldn't do for anyone to know they knew of him. Especially since they were the last ones to see him alive. It wasn't a casual murder, or an accidental one. They had risen up in his dungeon and struck him down for their freedom. It was revenge and liberation. None of the sisters knew anything of their lives before him other than the day of their birth. It was why he had locked them away. A gypsy had warned him that a woman born on that date would kill him. Funny how gypsy prophesies have a way of being self-fulfilling...
Here's the premise:
Use one or all of the following images as prompts to write a story or Poem of __________(You fill in the blank.)
I chose a picture of eight redhaired women standing in the shire.
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