patio57
The worn out gate was loose on its hinges and swung loosely in the wind. We were afraid to go past the gate and into the house because someone said that an old weird lady lived there. It was night time and the moon was full casting all sorts of shadows from the trees.
The runway was empty, lines of lights guiding the tarmac towards mission control. The plane descends.
I wasn't at liberty to tell, after all I had sworn to secrecy after she told me the details. I knew that it was important to the case to tell the truth, but what she revealed was confidential and I would never break a confidence.
The preacher stood at the pulpit bellowing his sermon to the masses, braying his message in strong terms, quoting scripture after scripture to the hoards of empty souls.
Marci plays accordion and so does Kirsten. Then there's Ted who plays for a local zydeco band. They're pretty good. I never gave much credibility to the accordion, but now that my friends play that instrument, I like it now.
There was a bench on the east side of the house. It had a little gold plaque on the back that said "dedicated to Gracie 1995 - 2004." I wondered who Gracie was and if she ever had a chance to sit on that bench and watch the clouds go by.
I concealed my identity and now I get to write about conceal twice. You'd think this was an advantage but it's really not.
Sparkling is much better than bland, glittering up my brain to things that are sparkling such as champagne, my face on Halloween, and some people's personalities, most of all I think of the icy streets in the morning from a night's frost.
The crossword puzzle was savage this evening, ripping away every tidbit of information I thought I knew. No, the puzzle bit my mind and tore at me, little by little, shredding every ounce of word ego I ever had.
I remember the lillies at my grandmother's home, tall, white curls. Calla lillies lining her fence.