THE MARCH TO FREEDOM_A Different Frequency_In The Blink Of An Eye_Mrs.Bloomer
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THE MARCH TO FREEDOM
The man trapped inside would remain a prisoner until early November, or if his captors became hard-pressed—terminated. The choice was his. The small basement level apartment held the man captive deep inside the Washington Highlands area of D.C. There was no public access to the red-tagged building, so foot traffic was almost nonexistent. Only those with less than righteous thoughts ventured into the neighborhood, and any attempts of drawing their attention to his predicament were met by well-dressed men with guns. The hopper window, located a good arm’s length above his six-foot frame, provid...
A Different Frequency
It's an overcast autumn day. It has been several days since I have spoken to anyone. I'm in a relationship, or at least, I'm not entirely certain it is still going on. Had we broken up? Did we have a fight that I had forgotten? Lately I've been feeling scattered, as if my brain were a shattered mirror and I was trying to figure out the broken pieces and put them back together. My mood has been dark, and I feel a deep sense of loneliness. I've been having trouble concentrating, or remembering things. Did I miss something important? Was I supposed to be at work today? Do I still even have...
In The Blink Of An Eye
My hands were bound behind me as I was being led out of the jailhouse. The sun hit me square in the eyes and I had to squint. We walked a short distance and turned the corner. I could then see what all the hammering noise was I had been hearing from my cell. Of course I already knew what was going on. After all, this was the reason for my being in the jail. As we turned the corner I could see the crowd that had gathered to see my demise. Didn’t these people have anything better to do with their miserable lives? This will likely be the most excitement they’ve seen since that first day when I ro...
Mrs.Bloomer
I was five when I first met Mrs. Bloomers. She was sitting in that wooden rocking chair. I never liked that rocking chair, there was Just something...off about it. Little did www.onedoor.ccI know seven years later, on that very same day, would be the last I saw of her, and her rocking chair. It was late October, and everyone was getting ready for Halloween. I walked down my block to Mrs. Bloomers' house, and was suprised to see a light grey minivan parked in her always-empty driveway. I was confused at first, wondering who's car that was, but I assumed it was a relative or a friend. I slowly walked up the s...