snowybiscuit
Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. Seeds. 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"Don't dwell on the past, Kate." she said quietly. "What's done is done, and there's nothing we can do about it."
I sighed. Maybe she was correct. But it just didn't feel right, leaving behind the memories, forgetting.
"One more minute, Mom!" I yelled, searching desperately through my clothes. WHY didn't I have anything to wear?! I heaved a desperate sigh as I tossed shirts left and right, frustrated.
She stood back and watched as yet another fracture scarred her life. Her mother stood, crying and sobbing, on her knees in the dust kicked up by the family’s car as it zipped away, carrying her father out of her life forever.
She stood back and watched as yet another fracture scarred her life. Her mother stood, crying and sobbing, on her knees in the dust kicked up by the family's car as it zipped away, carrying my father out of my life.
The whole building was flled with persons. Pushing, walking, talking, sweating and shouting as they bustled about their business. My heart rose up to my throat and I started to hyperventilate. I caught random snatches of conversation,
"...three hours late..."
"I can't believe Gary..."
"Dania! Dania!" shouted Rachel in my ear. I started and looked at her.
"Pull yourself together!" she said sharply. I nodded and sucked in a shuddering breath, trying to shove out paniced thoughts of claustrophobia and suffocation out of my head.
"Welcome to the pits," said the man, spreading his arm out before him.
The air was thick and damp, rent with the screams and pleas of tortured souls. The ground was moist and tinged with red. Hardly any light filtered in from the dark canopy above. Terror flooded through me, and I started to shake, eyes wide, mouth open as I started to hyperventilate.
He squirmed under her keen eyes. They pierced him like needles, sending gooseflesh rippling down his arms. He shivered and looked away, his eyes falling to the floor. The woman gave a scornful snort and turned her back on him.
The framework of the painting was simple black ebony, with a dull shine running down its length. He gently stroked the wood, staring at the picture inside of it with his eyes brimming with tears. His wife, his six year old little girl, smiling cheerily at the camera as they posed on top of their favorite picnik site, a little hill in the park. With a heavy sigh, he set the picture aside and prepared himself for the trip to Iraq.
writing since 2012 · 14 entries · 11 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Jules showed up.
10longest streak
11days written
8.2entries / week
the words Jules reaches for
seedseyesstoodpicturethickframeworkmotherstreetbehinddoorslowlywoodtopblackagainstoil