eileenmaki
Weary to the bone, I grabbed my bags and hauled myself onto the bus. It was nearly empty, so I grabbed a seat and put my gear on the seat beside me. As I leaned my head back on the seat and closed my eyes, I heard a shuffling next to me and opened one eye.
There was an elderly man beginning to look through my things. I watched him for a moment.
It's been so long since I've written on here. I will try to weave this word into my re-introduction to the community. I love using OneWord. It keeps my mind sharp, causes me to think quickly, and act on those thoughts before I have time to stop and think and doubt myself. I will definitely make a post about OW on my new website, TheWriterie.com.
Walking softly, Issa crouched low and pulled the dagger from her sleeve. The lights ahead were bright and the door to the tavern was open. The city was silent and the hair on the back of her neck stood at the the eerie thought of a silent tavern.
"What a terrible accident." Detective Inspector Robinson crouched near the victim, lifting the young man's lapel with the tip of his pen to inspect the wounds.
Detective Inspector Warren crouched next to her, gloves covering her pale hands as she held the jacket open.
"It was no accident, it was deliberate. The strong slashes. Downward, as if the victim was already on the ground when the attacker struck. Vicious, downward strokes, over and over again. 17 times he was stabbed."
The inspectors were silent as they imagined the man's last moments.
"We think it was a women."
"He's just a cub." Sarah said quietly, her eyes downcast.
"It doesn't matter." Her father shoved his arms into his jacket, grabbed the rifle resting by the door and stepped out onto the porch.
The winter wind was biting and Sarah wrapped her arms around herself as she watched her father's back retreat into the flurrying snow.
Into the night she sneaked, her black shoes quiet on the soft grass. The wind whistled softly, almost apologetic through the branches above her head. Looking to her left, she could make out the mansion. There was a light on in the lower level but the upstairs sections were completely dark.
Amid the chaos, Noah could feel his panic raising. He turned, his cloak swirling around his calves, his eyes searching the faces swarming around him for a friendly set of eyes. Blood splattered faces grimaced at him in pain and fear and Noah knew his search for a friend was failing.
He stared. His eyes, not moving from her face.
"Now?" He breathed quietly.
She made no sound but nodded her ascent.
"What about my dignity?" His eyes begged her for understanding, his hands reached toward her, palms up, hands open.
"You have none." She seethed.
millions of seconds
have passed
your face, your fingers
blessed this place
your breath, your light
too long excused
your scent, your feel
with no trace
remembering
I am graced
mighty oak
solid roots
never running
always standing
tall
reaching
to the sky
never goodbye
always by my side
standing tall
mighty oak
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