Palpitations made him stop in his tracks
Until his heart began to beat normally
Listening, he could hear others fleeing to the north
So he continued fleeing eastward and hoped his pursuers would go in that direction
Except hope was extinguished when a slug ripped through his chest
Been promised that everything would be fine
Except that was never going to be true
That shouldn’t have surprised her
Rachel had grown up on the wrong side of the tracks
And no one there was ever able to keep their word, even if they tried
Yet this one hurt more than all the rest put together
Everett said he would always be there to hold her, to help make things right
Death had conveniently gotten him out of that, the bastard. She spit on his grave.
Penelope looked at her kids and shook her head
Loving them was usually so easy, even if they were little witches
Until they broke something. This time it was the toilet
Now she needed to put on her rubber gloves and pull out her weapon of choice
Going into the bathroom, she stopped in her tracks for a second
Everything was covered!
Readying for her weapon, she battled the summoned demon back down the bowl and flushed.
There was that time when he was out prowling around
Impeccable coat, stripes so sharp they would slice through rival suitors
Giving the ladies a view of what an alpha male looked like
Everything changed when he met her. She stopped that predator dead in his tracks
Relaxing on her new pelt rug, she looked into his eyes. What a pussycat!
I remember the child sitting on my lap. “What would it take for you to do this one thing for me?” he had asked. They warn you about this when you join the corps, but it still amazes you when you hear it.
That’s why I stopped in my tracks and thought hard once I was in the man’s bedroom. What the kid was asking me to do came naturally. Still, I hated the son of a bitch for what he had done to the boy, so I wanted to gift the man something more. All it would take is a slight twitch and justice would be served. I had killed many a person, young and old, male and female, but never while they slept, not in cold blood. That was not who I was, at least not now.
I sheathed my blade and left his son’s note. I thought about leaving a bit of coal behind to emphasize that I saw his naughty ass and if I had wanted he would have been mine, but I am a man of the red cloth. “What would it take? I may only play a saint, but a devil I am not.”
Image: newsinfo.inquirer.net/files/2019/12/48624557.jpg
Too much guitar can ruin anyone’s day
Heather put it down and looked at the mixer
Everything she had poured her soul into was in there
Being meticulous she began mixing the tracks
Loving living in the minutia of the sound
Understating the rifts, but keeping the sad story moving
Everything was just about perfect
She cried when the mixer hit a sour note and lost everything
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
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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 