jajohnson338
The car was parked a few feet back from the fence. I sat on the top of it, holding her hand and looking out. The bright orange sun faded beyond the ocean's horizon, as a tree next to us cast a long shadow back past the car. I gave her hand one last squeeze, willing all my feeling into that touch, before I let go and jumped.
I had ground them myself this morning, a fine brown powder. That smell wafted through the room, sweet and bitter all at once, the most unique of flavors. Carefully measured teaspoons were covered in boiling water. After minutes pass, I take the final step on my way to this morning's cup of utopia and press down the sieve, trapping the powder and leaving my heavenly brown liquid.
Your Honor, I stand before you, representing an innocent man. I don't have proof, but I have my conviction. To find him guilty, would be the greatest of crimes, even more than the accusations against him.
My ship is drifting, forever on the sea that bubbles like a cauldron. The rains pour down, adding minuscule ripples among the giant waves. A beam of light pierces through the gathering clouds. Home awaits, the warmth of a fire, and a safe harbor for this vessel.
He sat under the log, his back brushing against the mossy bark. The shots rang down over his head, disturbing what would be a calm morning in the wood. His breathing grew heavier, shrapnel falls at his feet. Blurred shouts come from afar. He rises up, gun in hand, with his life in the balance and his future before him.
With a furrowed brow the mother gazed down at her child. What was it over? A broken chair? Some failed assignment? Or perhaps he is sick once more with that terrible fever... The sweat is gathering on his brow as it is on hers. What can I do, she thinks. How can I help him ease his pain?