She walked into the dark room, wondering if there was any power to the building. She knew she was taking a risk, but no one was going to castdoubt on the fact that this was a crisis and someone needed to take control right away. She walked over to the board. Running her hand up and down the wall, feeling for the strip of light switches was yielding no results. Moving quickly, knowing the contract on her head was a direct assault, she wanted to grab the book and jump on her flight, A roll of the die wasn’t going to help this time around.
Once upon a time there was a ruthless leader who thought he could trump all the other rulers. He was a hypocrite of sorts, saying the country needs justice, but defiling all his democratic contenders. He was a sad man, not sorrow that would be felt for others, rather a pathetic sort of sadness that for whatever reason even his sycophants couldn’t see. When his blunders were made public he acted like a turtle, hiding in a shell, denying all wrong doings, until the anger came to an end and he could come out again without strain. He left his country feeling dead to the world, no longer the nation they were once proud of.
As I creep down the dark hallway, I pray the floorboards do not creek and give my location away. When I first saw the knight enter the great hallway, my first reaction was to dip into a crevice to keep myself hidden. I have heard that His Lord is morose and will try to break the neck of anyone who mistreats him. He solely believes in singularity, with his own self being the center of the universe.
My feelings go back and forth like a yo-yo on a string. Do I present myself and take the consequences or do I remain hidden? My thoughts are soaring, and I feel like my heart is trying to claw its way out of my body. The deep stain of all the woodwork helps me remain unseen while I decide what my options are.
Shallow waters flow A raven calls my name Chimes can be heard as life drains from my body Problems no longer weigh on me for I have mended my wrongs tracing my lifeline like lace held by a chain weighing me down a vote no longer needed to decide where to go.
By the glow of the fire, we could hear the thrumming of the distant drums like waves on the ocean, except coming to our ears. We didn’t mean to stop here; it was because we spent so much time repairing the chimney.
Suddenly there was a sound of chains rattling, dinning the peacefulness of the drums. The short stint of simple drumbeats was washed out by a score of rattles and clanks from the cells below the town. These cells were like stains upon the finest clothes, never fully disappearing.
Was this all a dream? Was I even awake? I could smell the burnt wood in the fire.
Here are our words Vox Populi- the voice of the people; popular opinion. Asleep Fade Stumble Reject Field Meteor Eerie Never Blood Orange Blame Place
In poppy Fields
Under the light of the Blood Orange moon, she walked, although still asleep, into the open field of poppies. She did not stumble in this place, for she knew it well. If she were awake, it would seem so eerie, but she never fully woke up.
The villagers blamed the girl for the meteor that fell from the sky, landing in this place of Opium and dreams. Their vox populi was that of rejection and would surely take its toll on her fragility as their hatred could not fade.
Thanks again to Brenda for hosting the Sunday Whirl Challenge. You can participate by clicking here:
Wouldn’t it be heaven if you could caress the soft cotton of a babies’ blanket? You typically do not see one the color of coal, but I am sure there is a cart that holds a black blanket someone wants to purchase. If you were to covet all of the blankets you would hear a cacophony of crying babies call out for their comforting cover. So, you can put that idea in the column labeled NEVER and grab a corona. Crack one for me too!
Betsy threw back the covers when she heard the bell. It was Lizzy’s bell on her bike. Lizzy was her best friend and had gotten a new ten-speed bike for her birthday. She insisted it still needed a bell, like a little kid’s bike. But Betsy was tired of laying here, so she welcomed the sound.
Betsy was a pretty girl but born very fragile with many health issues. She tried to live as happily as she could, even though everything always hurt. It wasn’t just her joints though. She sometimes felt this burn underneath her skin that felt like fire. Despite her troubles, Betsy was sweet as sugar, with her golden curls and bright blue eyes.
Before Betsy could get out the back door, she heard a crash.
“What in the world was that?” she asked aloud.
Swinging open the door she sees the Augean situation. Her best friend Lizzy had been trying to do a cartwheel in the front of the house but landed on mom’s bird bath instead.
“Lizzy, what happened?” Betsy called out as she ran to Lizzy.
Lizzy turned to look at Betsy. Lizzy furrowed her brow, at first wondering why Betsy looked so worried but then turned her attention back to her butt in the watery bath. Luckily Lizzy had risibility, making her laugh at her own carelessness. Betsy leaned over to give her best friend a hand to get up and out of the water. Both girls laughed and laughed.