October 6, 2020 at 3:57 pm #120402
@urwen-starial Hmmm . . . this sounds like it could be interesting . . . I’m for it.
Your word I have hidden in my heart,
That I might not sin against You.October 12, 2020 at 10:50 am #120567
@dakota @mayacat @urwen-starial @kayla-skywriter @esmeralda-gramilton @naiya-dyani
This is a part for my newest character: Chance. You can read about him in the character doc. 🙂 Sorry if there are mistakes. 😑
The dim light of a candle flickered and danced in one of the yawning, glassless windows of the old, burned out factory building; casting eerie shadows on the crumbling blackened walls. It was not a window facing the street as one might expect. Instead it lay on the back of the building and the candle shone into a narrow space between the buildings that looked more like a passage or tunnel than a street or an alley.
Outside the building, the tiny flame shone like a beacon through the darkness. Despite the coldness of the city around it; it bravely stood alone. The cold wind blew on it and it’s light flickered, but a hand from beyond the window reached out shielded it from the glacial blast. It stood strong again, glowing through the helpful hand. The hand retreated back through the window into the building. There was a strange wonder about how much light the candle brought. Though it was only one small candle, it seemed as though it could brighten the whole city if only it was given the chance.
Inside the old factory the light shone on a face that bent near it, over stacked chunks of concrete acting as a table. It was a strange face. Though beautifully proportioned and pleasing in it’s expression, it was somehow haunting. Perhaps it was its pure otherworldliness and the strange resemblance it had to that small candle.
It was the face of a young man. As though absorbing the light of the candle, his pale skin seemed to glow. His lips moved as, with fingers stiff from cold, he jotted out words and accompanying notes on a scrap of half-charred paper. The hand that held the pen was thin and intricately shaped, with long, deft fingers and a small, strong palm. He wrote as much as he could fit on the small scrap of paper, cramming the words together with tiny handwriting.
When finally he ran out of space, he surveyed the song he had just written. His face held a thoughtfulness that brought out the best in his stunning gray eyes, making him seem far wiser than his nineteen years could account for. But there was sadness in those eyes as well. It was as if somewhere deep in the heart that lay under his gray mockingbird uniform, there was an ache that could never be extinguished.
He raised his eyes to the tiny flame and peace shone on his face in a sudden, but quiet smile. There was tragedy in the smile, yet bravery as well. Almost as soon as the smile came, it was gone. As he glanced through the window and saw snow beginning to fall, the smile came back again and deepened, claiming even the saddest curves of his lips. But again it was instantly gone. As the candle flickered with the growing cold, he once more stretched out his hand to shield it. Fondly, he gazed from it to the snowflakes drifting gently down as though they were both dear friends.
Suddenly there was a soft knock. A slight movement of his lips was his only sign of being startled. He looked towards the door and, standing up, walked quickly to it. Opening the door, he looked down to see a little girl standing there with the glow of anticipation lighting her small face. When she saw him, her eyes lit up and she ran at him, throwing her arms around his leg, she squeezed it tightly.
“Chance!” she cried. Releasing him, she pulled the hat from her head and put it in his hand. “I bought yarn with the money you gave me And grandma made me this hat! Isn’t it just beautiful?”
Chance looked down at the hat in his hands. The yarn was not the finest, for fiber was scarce in Outopia now that most of the farmers had lost their sheep and many of the cotton fields had been burned to the ground. But the hat itself was beautiful. The stitches were even and tight so that there were no holes for the winter cold to seep through. The design was well matched with the lovely deep red hue of the yarn. The hat band was ribbed and topping the hat was a puffy fur pom pom.
Chance smiled. He was forced to blink back a tear as he looked at her. She stood with her hands clasped, the snowflakes landing in her long wavy brown hair and her blue eyes shining with delight. She bounced on her toes and twirled around before asking again, “Isn’t it just beautiful?”
“Yes. It sure is,” Chance knelt down and, brushing the snowflakes from her hair, pulled the hat back over her head. “Now your ears won’t freeze off Leila,” he pulled her into a hug.
Leila wrapped her arms as far as she could get them around his back and squeezed tightly, burying her face in his chest with a contented little sigh. He pressed his face down against her head and shut his eyes. The snow fell gently down around them, creating a beautiful picture in stark contrast with the ugliness and darkness of the city.
These two were best friends. The bond between them beat fiercely in both their hearts. No other child in the city knew what it was. They all loved Chance, but none had come this close. Everyone wondered when they saw the two together. The age difference between them seemed non-existent in their minds. She had knowledge beyond her years and wasn’t Chance still a child at heart? With her he could try to live some of the innocent childhood that was stolen from him.
At last their arms loosened around each other and she raised her head. He smiled at her. “Are you alright tonight Chance?” she asked softly.
“Yeah. I’m alright. Come on inside. It’s cold out here,”
He stood up. She slipped her hand into his and squeezed it tightly as he let her inside and shut the door. As she saw the candle, she let go of his hands and ran to it. She cupped her hands around the tiny flame. He went to her side and gazed with her. She smiled at the little candle and looked up at Chance.
“Even though he’s so small he’s so brave out here in the cold.” She said softly
“Just like you,” Chance whispered
She looked up at him, a lovely smile flashing across her face. “Really?”
Chance nodded, returning her smile.
The slight glow of bashfulness and pleasure dyed her cheeks, “Sometimes it’s hard to be brave, Chance. But when I see this candle shining in your window it helps me.”
“Me too,” he sat down on the old chair in front of the window.
“It helps me be brave because I know you’re here. I see your hand shield it from the cold and it reminds me how much you love me.” she sighed “It helps me not think about what’s been making me afraid,”
“Lots of stuff,” she said evasively as she climbed into his lap and laid her head against his shoulder. Her eyes held a very serious look as they fixed on the little candle.
She didn’t speak for a moment. He waited expectantly, knowing she would open up when she was ready. He didn’t have to wait very long. She drew a long breath and finally spoke in a tiny voice, “Thinking about the rebels. . . and the fires,”
Instinctively Chance put both arms around her and held her tightly. The small girl sighed heavily. She snuggled closer against him and trembled, pressing her face into his neck. She sat there a few minutes, til her trembling calmed. She lifted her head and looked up at his face.
“Are you afraid of the rebels Chance?”
Chance sat for a moment, thinking before he spoke, low and thoughtfully, “No. . . I’m not afraid of them in themselves. I’m afraid of the turmoil the spirit of rebellion will bring to the city and the inevitable conflicts between the rebels. . . and us,”
“That’s what I meant. You’re just so much better at expressing yourself than I am,” she pressed her lips together thoughtfully, “I guess it comes of being so little,”
Leila sighed again. Her eyes fell to the paper on the concrete block and her eyes lit up. She jumped up and clasped her hands, gazing at him with sparkling eyes “You wrote a new song didn’t you?!”
“Oh please, play it!!”
“If you’ll go get me my violin from the corner over there,”
The girl ran and brought it to him, then dropped down on her knees at his feet. Her eyes sparkled and shone. Chance picked up the battered, old violin case and lifted a beautiful violin out of it. He set the violin carefully in his lap and took out his bow. Setting the case on the floor, he lifted the violin to his shoulder. The small girl before him, leaned her arms on his knees and rested her chin on her arms, her eyes fixed on his face. As the first few notes filled the air, her eyes grew wide and her face shone with delight.
A sudden surge of energy seemed to rush to her tiny body and she leaped to her feet. She began dancing around the room. No one had ever taught her how to dance. But she had so much natural talent. Her movements were graceful and fit perfectly with the sad and mournful tones of the music. She made quite a picture with her brilliant red hat against a drab brown, oversized coat and the white skirt of a night gown peering from underneath the coat. But what did the clothes matter when her heart and soul came out in her flying feet?
Chance played with his eyes fixed on her. Not once did he glance at the notes on the paper; already he had learned them by heart. The music brought an entirely new look to his face: a beautiful contentment and peace. Color rushed to his pale cheeks. A smile took hold of his lips as he watched her.. The look of tragedy was completely gone. His face seemed to glow with a light from deep within his being.
All too soon for both, the music had to end as the last notes of the song faded into stillness. As Chance lowered his violin, the light faded from his face, leaving it even more pale than it had been before he had begun playing. It looked almost gray in the faint moonlight coming through the window. The candle had gone out.
Leila’s dance ended, mid twirl. The fire faded from her eyes as well. They gazed at each other for a moment, motionless. Chance’s gray eyes seemed to melt as they slowly filled with tears. Leila could remain still no longer. She ran to him and threw her arms around his neck.
“Chance.” she whispered.
Chance could not speak, he held her tightly, trying to choke down the turmoil of emotions that tossed in his heart.
Music was his confession. When he played, all of what he was feeling came out in the music. All the hurt and torment from past memories; all of the pain from the present; all of the fears and hopes and dreams of his heart were poured out in the form of notes on his violin. But only those keen enough in the ears of their hearts could hear it.
Leila raised her head again. Tears glistened in her eyes as well. She sniffed audibly, “It- it has words doesn’t it Chance?”
He nodded wordlessly and, picking the paper up, handed it to her. She read, slowly and carefully. When she finished, she looked up at him with tears rolling down her face. She reached out to hand the paper back to him, but he shook his head. She nodded and, clasping it in her fist, hugged again, quickly. Then, pressing a kiss on his cheek she stood up, and without a word, crossed the floor with slow, burdened steps. As she opened the door she stopped and blew a kiss to him. He returned it and watched as she turned and disappeared behind the closed door.
Sleep doesn't help if it's your soul that's tired.October 12, 2020 at 2:36 pm #120577
Oh wow . . . that was wonderful, in the tragically beautiful sort of way. Masterfully done!
Your word I have hidden in my heart,
That I might not sin against You.October 13, 2020 at 12:33 pm #120604
Thanks sis. Why didn’t anyone else’s tags work. Hmm.
Tagging you all for my last post and this one:
Logan stared at her in disbelief. She had just hugged him. She forgave him. She was smiling at him. Slowly the corners of his mouth turned upward in a weak, but meaningful smile. “You’re- you’re welcome Rhioe. And thank you for- well- just for hugging me,” he stammered. That didn’t come out right! “Sorry! Um. I- I should take you home now,” he added, his face reddening and his eyes falling.
Sleep doesn't help if it's your soul that's tired.October 13, 2020 at 6:16 pm #120613October 14, 2020 at 11:38 am #120635
Thank you ❤️
Sleep doesn't help if it's your soul that's tired.October 14, 2020 at 11:44 am #120636
“Cade.” Joan shook him again. The unfamiliar feeling of tears in her eyes made her jump. It had never occurred to her how much Cade had become a part of her life. He was a hero. A leader. So much in this city depended on him. If he died-
The door opened. Joan leaped to her feet, her hand grasping the handle of a blade in it’s sheath at her side. Her eyes were wide with apprehension. If this was the government, and they found out who Cade was; he could be killed on the spot. Her face relaxed and her hand moved off the knife handle as a dark-haired teenager dressed in torn jeans and a gray hoodie stepped in.
“Jordan,” she said sharply.
He jumped and looked at her.
“What were you doing out so late again?”
“I’m sorry Miss Joan,” his eyes fell to Cade’s motionless form on the floor, “Miss Joan! What happened?”
“Exhaustion. He finally broke. Jordan I need help carrying him to one of the beds. Can you help me lift him?”
Jordan was on his knees by Cade’s side, “He’s- He’s not breathing!! Why isn’t he breathing?” the teenager’s deep brown eyes were wide as he looked up at her.
“I don’t know. But I need help Jordan,” Joan knelt, “Please help me lift him,”
Jordan didn’t respond. Standing to his feet, he bent over Cade and lifted him up over his shoulder. He stumbled slightly under the weight, “Where are we putting him?”
“No. Jordan please let me help you. You’re going to hurt yourself,”
“I’m fine!” Jordan’s eyes flashed dangerously, “Just tell me where to put him,”
Joan looked at Jordan’s face. Already the boyish life was draining his cheeks and his lips were trembling. But she knew his mental wall was preparing to go up and once it did, she would get nowhere with him. She shook her head, “Follow me,”
She led him into the room where the older boys slept and looked around for an empty bed.
“We can put him in my bed,”
Where will you sleep? Her mind asked. On the street no doubt. She answered her own question as she led him to the back corner where he normally slept. As carefully as he could, Jordan laid Cade down. His face was pale and twisted with pain as he straightened back up and looked at her.
“Jordan. . . sit down,”
“No. I’ll get the Sparrow doctor,”
“You hurt your back. You need to sit down,”
“I’ll sit down after I get the doctor.” He started towards the door with a grunt of pain.
She grabbed his shoulder and turned him around, “Jordan.”
“I’ll go for the doctor,”
“No way!! You’re a girl! You shouldn’t be out on the street this late, alone.”
Jordan tugged away from her, his nostrils flaring and his voice rising, “I’m going, Miss Joan whether you like it or not,” His chin lifted in defiance.
As much as she didn’t want Jordan to hurt himself even more, Joan knew Cade might not have much time. She bit her lip, “God be with you Jordan,”
He streaked away. As she sat back down beside Cade she wondered if Jordan would even make it to the doctor’s. But all she could do was wait while she did her best for Cade.
Sleep doesn't help if it's your soul that's tired.October 14, 2020 at 11:44 am #120637
Pain tore up and down Jordan’s back as he ran through the piercingly cold night. His knees trembled as if they would go out. A sound caught his ear. Something ahead. Something low and metallic. He skidded to a stop, the pavement shredding his worn shoes. That sound was all too familiar in his long history on the streets. He didn’t have time for a casual fight now. He had to get to the doctor.
Whirling he ran back the way he came for a few yards before ducking into a narrow alley. The sound of pursuing feet pounded in his ears. He gritted his teeth. He could either try to outrun them or stop and fight: either with an injured back to hinder him. It would get him to the doctor’s faster if he kept running, but- The decision was suddenly made for him by a dark figure leaping into his path. Again he skidded to a stop and looked quickly around. There had to be some other way out of this.
But there wasn’t. The only way was to fight it out. Which meant he had to move first and not let them know his current weakness. Swinging his leg upwards, he kicked the form in front of him in the chest, then spun around. His back quivered with pain and strain. His pursuers were unprepared for his sudden stop and slammed straight into him. He let himself fall backward onto the concrete, then instantly rolled on top of the first assailant. The glint of steel shone in the man’s hand. Jordan grabbed the handle of the knife and twisted it free from the man’s grasp.
But at that moment, another cold blade pressed his neck from behind. His whole body tensed. This was more than he had bargained for.
Sweat dripped from Jordan’s lip as he spoke. “Alright! Alright! What’s the game?”
“This ain’t no game, Vickery,” the voice that replied from behind him was heavy and dark.
Jordan tensed at his last name, “Fine. What is it then?”
“First off, where ya goin in such a hurry?”
“Nah. Can’t tell ya that,”
The laugh was cruel, “You’re refusing info already huh? This could get real sick real fast,” the blade pressed harder against his neck. “Alright, we want whatever you’re deliverin,”
“Look. I don’t got anything this time,” Jordan slowly lowered the blade of the knife he held towards the chest of the man underneath him.
“Hey! I said don’t move!”
The blade began to slice Jordan’s neck. He froze and it stopped. “I’m serious. I don’t have food or-” Jordan stopped himself, “Anything else you might want,” he finished, wincing as a trickle of blood ran down the side of his neck.
“You think I’m gonna believe that?” the blade pressed deeper.
“Believe what you like. I’m just telling it straight,”
“We’ll see about that,” The knife dragged through his flesh before lifting away. Hands grabbed him by his shoulders and threw him onto his face on the concrete. A heavy body handed on top of him, and an elbow jammed into his back. “Search him guys,”
Jordan gritted his. This is a stupid waste of time! For both of us! He winced at the pain in his back. At least there’s nothing for them to find. Hands rummaged through his pockets. When nothing was found in them, his shoes were torn off and shaken. Jordan rolled his eyes at the grunts of disappointment. Told you there wasn’t anything. Now could you just HURRY UP!!
The weight lifted on his back slightly and the searching hands slid up under his hoodie. This was his chance. Maybe the only one he would get. He tensed, waiting for the perfect moment. With a quick upward thrust, he threw his whole body backward, knocking the men off of him and standing to his feet. Another muscle in his back tore. A knife tore his leg, but he didn’t care now. He was up. He burst into motion.
A hand grabbed his hoodie. It tore as he pulled away and broke into a run. He shivered as a blade stuck in his back. In a last desperate attempt one of them had thrown a knife. The pavement was cold under his feet, pushing him to keep running. He made as many turns as he could. He didn’t want to lead them to the doctor. Who knows what they’d do to her. Jordan could feel his strength draining and blood ran from his neck, back, and leg. The pain was overwhelming, but at least it wasn’t Joan out here on these dangerous streets.
After an exhausting run, he came to a stop in front of the doc’s house. He looked around. No one. He had lost them. Furiously, he pounded on the door.
“Doc!” he cried, as loudly as he dared.
Sleep doesn't help if it's your soul that's tired.October 14, 2020 at 11:49 am #120638
@emberynus-the-dragonslayer Coolio! 🙂
Your word I have hidden in my heart,
That I might not sin against You.October 14, 2020 at 11:50 am #120639
@mayacat @urwen-starial @kayla-skywriter @esmeralda-gramilton @naiya-dyani @dakota
Okay so that was kinda graphic. But *shrug*
Sleep doesn't help if it's your soul that's tired.October 14, 2020 at 11:52 am #120640October 15, 2020 at 11:06 am #120661October 16, 2020 at 1:12 pm #120676
Okay, here we go.
The morning sunlight glinted off the windows, most of which were only shards of glass clinging to gray window frames. Only a few were still whole. A crust of dirty snow from an early morning storm had caked into the frames, casting a gritty film over the glass.
Megyn glanced at one of them as she walked past them. Her face looked back at her, blurred by the dirty glass. Pausing, she gazed at the entire building, once the grandest office complex of the Third Sector. It was only a crumble of half-stacked stones now. The roof had rotted away years ago, opening up the interior to the elements. Decaying beams and worn furniture littered the floor inside.
She only stood there a moment, looking into the ghost of that ruined building. A musing expression tightened her lips as she sighed. Turning her face, she walked down the street. Changing her course at a four-way intersection, she entered a narrower street.
A stiff wind rushed over her, wisping her braided hair and tugging at her sleeves as it swirled around her. Shivering slightly, she straightened her back and headed off the street towards a gray brick, two-story building. In appearance, it was rather nondescript. Most would have walked right by it without a second glance. The sign, hung by a rod perpendicular to the door frame, spelled out in faded black letters, Outopían First Response Medical Squad Headquarters. It rocked gently in the wind as she walked up to the door and reached for the door handle.
The door scraped on the threshold as she opened it and stepped inside. The room she’d entered was arranged like a lobby, plain but clean. A row of black metal chairs stood in rank along the left wall. The wall directly across from her was dotted with an old snapshot of the Headquarters and a few public notice posters, tacked to the faded white brick with rusty nails.
Megyn’s eyes stopped on one of the posters hung at her eye level. The bold, black letters “A Government Warrant for Sparrow Suspects” seemed to leap off the wall and settle as a lump in her throat.
She stepped over to the wall and lifted the corner of the poster. It read, in smaller black type – “Notice to all citizens of Outopía- The Council of Outopía has issued the following warrant for the arrest of any and all persons suspected of association with Sparrow Rebellion . . .”
Her eyes seemed to darken in their hazel as they followed the words down the page, She pressed her lips together, swallowing a lump in her throat.
She half-turned, still holding the corner of the poster. An agent sat at the long desk to her right. His shoulders, straight, toned and usually held upright, slumped over with weariness. His faded blue eyes studied her with a slight warmth of friendliness shining out of their cold shadows.
She let the poster fall from her fingers.“Good morning, Commander Enlow.” She turned and walked up to the desk.
He rose, extending a hand to her. “Good morning,” he replied, a jaded smile twisting his lips.
Her eyes looked into his as she shook his hand, “Are you alright, Commander?”
The smile tried to widen his tight lips, attempting to warm his eyes as he released her hand. But it only faded away completely as he replied, “Up late on a bad case last night. It didn’t end well. The old lady passed away.”
He lowered his hand to the desk. As he studied her face, his lips pressed close in concern. “You’ve got shadows around your eyes. You were out late as well, weren’t you?”
“I was up late, with two cases actually,” She admitted, nodding her head, “Caleb Devroye is sick again.”
Commander Enlow sighed.
Megyn bit her lip. “It’s pneumonia this time.”
His gaze dropped to a deep split in the top of his desk as he sat down at his desk and sighed. “He’s a die-hard, like his brother,” he pointed out, as though more to bolster his own hope than hers. “He’ll pull through.”
Megyn ducked her head, still biting her lip. “I hope so.” she said, barely above a whisper. She stood there a moment, eyes lost out the window behind Commander Conayre Enlow. As they focused on the glass, the faint reflection of a poster on the wall behind her caught their gaze. Straightening her back, she reached for a chair, a wave of determination sweeping over her. “But I need to talk to you about the second case.”
He glanced up at her, his right eyebrow cocking. “What about it?”
She crossed her ankles as she seated herself before him. “First,” she spoke calmly but cautiously, “the nature of the case. I was on my way back from the Devroye house when I noticed the Police arresting a young suspect. Apparently, during the pursuit, they shot him, inflicting a severe flesh wound in the left leg.”
Commander Enlow nodded.
“I went with them to the Tower, “ she continued, “where the Tower Warden granted me permission to treat his wound before his interrogation.”
His eyes locked into hers. “And?”
Her hands clasped in her lap, knotting her fingers together. “He was a Sparrow suspect, Commander.”
Both Commander Enlow’s eyebrow rose. “I see.”
“Please Conayre,” Megyn leaned forward, laying her clasped hands on the desk, “Would you please grant me a permission slip from you, allowing me to continue treating his injury. I’m concerned that, if left untreated in that unhygienic environment-”
Something rasped in his throat. A laugh, low and forced, grated out of him as he held up a hand to her.“You don’t need to go into a speech, Megyn.”
Megyn watched him anxiously, her lips pressed together, as he turned in his chair. He punched a button on the printer hunched on the battered table behind him, then began rummaging through a filing cabinet beside it.
“I’ll have one for you momentarily.” he told her as the printer grumbled to life.
A sigh of relief rushed from her lips. A smile, radiant with relief, brightened her face as her hands unclasped. “Thank you!”
He smiled another burned out smile. “You look like you were granted the world.”
She laughed hesitantly, glancing down at a crack in the top of the desk. “I guess I was just — very nervous asking you for this; especially with the posters going up over the city.”
He nodded as he fed a sheet of paper into the printer. “I was watching you reading the one on the wall.”
He swiveled his chair around and faced her as the printer began creaking. “You and I both know that, as FRMS agents, we serve everyone,” He spoke earnestly, leaning forward and resting an arm on the table. “Sure, there’s a poster here but that’s because we are a government agency. It doesn’t mean we’re going to break our pledge.”
With one last metallic creak, the printer silenced and spit out a sheet of paper. Commander Enlow twisted around and leaned a hand back, slipping the paper free. Turning back around, he laid the sheet down on the desk with one hand as he dragged a tin of pens across the top of his desk towards him with the other.
Megyn’s tense shoulders relaxed as her smile brightened. “Thank you for your understanding.”
Nodding, he selected a pen and signed at the bottom of the sheet, then slid it to her and held out the pen.
“I’ll keep you informed on the progress of this case.” Megyn promised as she signed the sheet.
Commander Enlow nodded again. Taking the pen back, he dropped it back in the tin. “I hope the young man recovers.” he told her as he pushed the tin aside.
“So do I.” She slid her chair to the side as she rose.
“Good-bye, Megyn.” The commander held out his hand.
She smiled again. “Good-bye, Commander.”
They shook hands. His longer-fingered hand enveloped hers as he gripped it firmly. She squeezed his with an equally firm grasp. They were comrades, fellow members of a thin line of defense in Outopía, As long as the city was here, they would be here, serving its people.
Megyn gave his hand one last shake. Releasing it, she lifted her hand to him in a crisp salute. Turning away, she walked to the door.
She looked back over her shoulder at him, one hand on the door handle and the other grasping the permission slip.
“Take care of yourself.” He told her, his voice quiet but earnest. “You’re my youngest agent and-.” He swallowed as something glistened in his eyes. “We’d hate to lose you.”
“I will, Conayre.” she assured him with a quiet smile. Opening the door, She slipped out into the piercing wind.
The wind blew bits of snow across the road into dirty drifts on the pavement as Megyn turned onto the road leading to the Second Sector gate. She walked quickly, her head tucked down against her chest to keep out the frigid wind. Turning her wrist slightly, she glanced down her watch. Nodding in approval, she walked on.
Minutes later, she arrived at the gate. Turning her back, she stood against the wall next to it. She tilted her head back against stones behind it as she gazed out over the snow-bound, ruined city. Her face shadowed with sorrow as her eyes drifted over roofs, caving in under the weight of the snow. Half-knocked down walls, with mounds of brown-stained snow cast against them. Heaps of rubble and small mountains of snow blocked some streets, rendering them inaccessible.
A cloud of frost blew from her lips as she sighed and closed her eyes. Lord, we need You. She whispered. Give us the strength to carry on.
So, Naiya, you can write Kedori coming to meet her and we’ll go from there. And, Kayla, if Pasha is still with him, then you can write something too.
Your word I have hidden in my heart,
That I might not sin against You.October 17, 2020 at 9:34 am #120732
@dakota Ready and willing to write another Pasha part. I’m just going to let Naiya go first.
How we chose to fight is just as important as what we fight forOctober 17, 2020 at 12:14 pm #120739
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