mnanon
It was all gone. He looked down at his grubby hands, grime stuck in the cracks of his palm. His money was spent. He looked down at his tattered tunic and his bare feet coated in dirt. His clothing were spent. Falling to his knees, he wept. His soul was spent.
It was all gone. He looked down at his grubby hands, grime stuck in the cracks of his palm. He looked down at his tattered tunic and his bare feet coated in dirt. He fell to his knees and wept.
She was a tough one, that's for sure. Dealing with stupid high schoolers daily is an amazing feat. How does she do it? Then again, she did put me in detention.
How many things can fit into that limited space?
Sure, it may be big, but it's not endless; stuff too many things into that cabinet and one day it'll burst.
I've never received one in school.
Not really.
But the act of being detained is one not unfamiliar.
Strap on a harness, we're going places.
Who knows if we'll ever return, but we're off.
Past mountains and over seas, we're off.
So strap on your harness, we're going places.
I'm not who I was. Each footstep takes me farther and deeper into an trench I've dug for myself. There is no end, no beginning or finite point in time. You can only move forward.
The heart--no, the soul, or whatever it may be--is the distributor of our drive; it ignites the functions of our physical body. From there, a life and history is molded and made possible; raw metal heated and molded, dipped into water while still golden and bright.
The hand stayed outstretched, but the grin wavered. The other party glanced down at the offered limb, a symbol of peace, and shrugged. The two shook hands firmly and the others around them seemed to exhale the tension away.
"It's a treaty."
She adjusted the cap roughly and spat on the floor in one smooth motion. Her hair tied back, and eyes narrowed, she grasped the bat and positioned it on her opposite shoulder.
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