The exercise:
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.
Mine:
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.
3 comments:
Ah, you go on your road-trip and I get suddenly busy at work. I suspect this is serendipitous, as it allows me to catch up before you get back!
Your poor guard; it doesn't sound like he's in for a good time of it when he does fall asleep!
The guard
In some books, read the text, Mohendran is called the watcher; in others he is known as the guard. In both cases it is considered wise to placate him before attempting to enter the prison. Lissajous sighed and rubbed his forehead. How was it so easy to learn that there was a guard, and even his name, but so hard to find out what would placate him?
Algard is the street I grew up on; consequently, I named my guardian angel, Al.
He protected me during my first fight, my first car accident, and the first time I was drunk and left by myself.
I am all grown now, and I know Al was God all along; God was just too big for me to see then.
I think it is time to give Al to my children in hopes he is as good to them as he was to me.
Greg - I did wonder where you'd gone, but figured work was the likely culprit.
Ah, don't you just hate it when they leave out the most important details?
Mo - very nicely expressed.
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