Evil is the look in their eyes saying goodbye for the very last time then returning once more walking back through the door Evilness returning to score
Threeglum birds searched the willowy forest for more of their kind. Finding only bones in the trickling river, they realized they had lost their families to pollution, plight, famine, and the dreaded hunter.
They heard the gentle hum of their families spirits before an evil growl above them spoken of in the myths of their ancestors, invaded their peace. The three little birds had to run hard and long to find a hiding place, where they stopped to pray for safety from the vicious hunting dogs and their cruel human masters.
In response to the Weekend Writing Prompt #268: Hosted by Sammi Cox This weekend your challenge is to write a poem or a piece of prose in exactly 46 words using the word “Year.”
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When times are good and happiness thrives a year slips by in merely a day
When times turn dark and oppression takes hold a year drags on for untold days
When People decide between right and wrong – years of rebellion will grow wide and grow strong
It had gone all wrong! His Commander was going to have him court-martialed or worse, he’d have to face the firing squad at dawn.
The fledgling scientist, newly recruited into the Party, had assured them that he could and would double or triple the size of their army with his newest gadget, the Replicating Ray Gun. He had replicated hundreds of items so far, a car, a boat, a ladies high-end handbag, which had netted him thousands of rouble’s in sales. He had replicated a tank and even one of their most deadly weapons, the RS-28 Sarmat, which NATO dubbed “Satan 2,” all without a single glitch.
So why were there thousands and thousands upon thousands of rocks and boulders laying where there should be thousands upon thousands of Soviet soldiers?
He heard the jingle of handcuffs along with the heavy plod of his Commander’s footfalls and turned slowly to face his soon-to-be executioner.
The Earth trembled as she lifted paradise in her hands made corporeal from the polluted crust of her mantle, to hold high in the sky, where the cancer of man could not reach it.
The senator from Texas, the frog on the left, spoke vehement frog talk to the frog senator from Florida, the frog on the right.
As the Florida senator spoke, the Texan senator turned as if to hop on out of the hot seat, or off the hot leaf as case in fact, it was.
Soon the leaf they both clung to with their slimy, webbed feet, became so hot from the summer sun, both had to leap without securing a landing spot, leaving the steaming leaf vacant and ready for newer, slimier frogs.