Write four lines of prose about: the guard.
Those of you following along probably have a pretty good idea what tomorrow's prompt will be...
This is another scheduled post, as I'm away having fun in the big city.
The gun sits unholstered on the desk before him, its barrel pointing toward the cell across the hall. Silence reigns within the dark room but he is not fooled. The prisoner has been growing more wild and rebellious by the hour; he cannot afford to relax his guard.
But he can only last so much longer before sleep slips through his defenses and carries him away.