…..The song bird was still there just as Kam had hoped. He slid on next to the carcass and hugged it tightly; although she screamed and beat at him with a closed fist, Kam thanked Sophia for not allowing him to eat the bird.
They sprinted back to the basement, trying their damndest to beat the sunset, story end……
….Being thrown into the leather bound chair wasn’t anything new at this point. Two weeks with R’em would be enough to desensitize the toughest men of pain. The Writer took the flinging like the rag doll he was being tossed around as. His hands found his chin immediately as he stared at the blank page…..
…..The police department had a heavy dose of small town vibe; upon entering the wooden double doors Grant found himself standing in front a large podium like desk, manned by two burly officers. Along with a shared body type the two guardsmen also had simplistic facial expressions that seemed to say “Who is this foreigner?”…..
…..Rory stared a long while. Just watching the old man’s chest rise and fall. The heart monitor providing a metronome for deep thought; The hospital TV adding background noise. Rory touched his grandfather’s hand the hand.
“Flora?!?!” The elder sprang awake calling for his long gone love.
“Nah Gramps…” Rory answered……
Kisa leaned out of the corkscrew and upshifted as the front tire began to lift off the ground. The third place rider was in her sights as she banked hard left into the next curve. She noticed as his taillight rose as he exited the same curve, he was only a few seconds ahead. She came out of the curve and fired…
…the writer, given his age, felt that it was now or never. To grab hold of his dream of creating a world, defining an adventure, exploring the deep, deep crevacis of imagination — to paint pictures with words….
This day had began just as all the days had over the past ten years. He awoke to a new surrounding, attached to a new person, waiting on light to give him a glimpse into that person’s life. There was always
His only means of time telling were the rays of light coming through his window. The window…the window. It represented hope and the proof of an existence beyond these four walls — the four walls that worked his sanity like a master carpenter. Carving,