Mtwalker12
The man lifted his suitcase with a sigh and stepped onto the platform. He couldn't bear to turn around and look back at his friends, his old city. There was nothing left for him here, not anymore. His last ties had been cut, and now he had to push on. His heavy breathing gave away his fear. What awaited him in New York?
My fingers dug at my side, trying desperately to hold my torn flesh together. The blood stained my tan coat and dripped onto the floor around me. I couched, spitting at the feet of the man in front of me. "You can do nothing here, Crowley. Do not lay a finger on them!"
This is the tale of a man. This man I have only seen once or twice in my entire life, but I knew he was special. He didn't seem so, with his long trench coat and his bright blue eyes, but if you looked carefully, you could see the shadows of his wings on the pavement.
Hallie put her pen to the paper and crossed out the word again. Sentenced. Was that even a word? It didn't sound like one, and she had no idea how it would even be used. The assignment was just flying over her head, and she didn't know how she would concentrate. The stress of the rest of the days events were weighing on her already, and this darned English assignment was just dragging her down with it.