Evil army of one, all in the name of misery loves company

Weirds Are Word

There was a calm as the bus doors shut, the wheels on the bus round and round like a lullaby carried her led lids to sleep.

Behind the bus doors there was placid. Unbeknownst to her, beyond the bus doors; the doors that led to her house sat a man heavily armed. Sitting holding his ammunition in wait for the hour of her coming. He was her snool.

He had set out for war, to take who once was his ally down. No frown, he grew wild with demonic thought. He had set out to steal her reputation. Made phone calls that burned every overpass. His purpose was to thow her out, and stab her in the back repeatedly until there was no life in her. His blade keen, and hand strong. Then he would nudge her lifeless body off a steep ravine. Claiming insanity took her. She was crazed…

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About Jonathan Caswell

Mr. Caswell has been composing poetry at least since High School. He has been on WORD PRESS for ten years and contributes to two other blogs beside this one. This blog has a Christian emphasis but all bloggers are welcome. Mr. Caswell chooses to---with permission--re[post material of interest

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