How many souls could she steal before the moon reached full?
Each one a jewel in her crown as a master thief
It was why she found herself in this pub drinking a warm beer
So many people here she could work her trade upon
The only problem they all had already had their souls stolen by their job, sport, or vice
Striking him across the face gave her satisfaction
Which brought all activity in the room to a halt
It caused him to hesitate to react to her attack
Pirouetting away from him, she stormed her way out
Everything had gone to plan. No one would question if she had stolen anything.
Then he realized his heart was missing
He looked around wildly, looking for who had stolen it
Ellen smiled, knowing the answer
Finally, he felt her hand in his and shook his head
That’s when he kissed her and tried to take her breath away
Image: bridestlouis.com/wp-content/uploads/Heart-with-Clear-Background.jpg
Nothing was left in the tank. The car had screamed at Greg miles ago that it needed sustenance, but Greg drove on anyway. Why should the car get what Greg could not?
It had been twenty days since she had left him. Now Ginny was on the west coast with her new job and new friends, and here he was in Cleveland, no money, no gas, and no chance of undoing any of his mistakes. To think at one time Greg was her bad boy. Now he was just being bad.
He left the keys inside the stolen car and began walking home. Sometimes you needed a long walk to clear your mind, but all the way to Atlantic City?
After two miles his feet were screaming. Okay, maybe this walk was a bit melodramatic, but it would be a great story to tell Ginny’s sister. She was hotter anyway.
Image: upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/1/19/Cleveland_Sign_at_Voinovich_Park_%2829488426860%29.jpg/800px-Cleveland_Sign_at_Voinovich_Park_%2829488426860%29.jpg
Feeling lucky I placed everything on double zero
Oblivious to the gasps at the table, I sat back contented
Reaching for the roulette wheel, the croupier set it spinning
The ball was sent orbiting in the opposite direction
Under my breath I started to pray
Needless to say I cursed when it landed on red 32
Everyone felt sorry for me, but I didn’t care. I had stolen that money
Stories and photos from Scotland
A paper-cut survivor
Abdi Mohammed
The Art of Prose and Poetry
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Sarah Torribio and her right brain. Music. Musings. Writing. Style.
We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive
With previous posting of "Our World" on Blogger
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Random Stuff I Think You'll Like
Things I love, typically with people I love. Will likely be hiking, baking, and doing other things that make me happy.
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Never Short On Words 