Together, let's get to the bottom of exactly who is like a frog that croaks in the frosty night waiting for the knight to come along, like a forgotten jewel that lay beneath the earth's surface waiting to be discovered by a handler who is gentle and kind, like a lover that found his love again after being lost at sea for twenty years.
Together, let's get to the bottom of exactly who worships sanity in the late-night hours while remaining in the shadows where the moon does not touch with its light. They must be a person that has what we need to stamp out. They will surely not want to let go of the angry joy they get from their controlling ways.
Together, we have painted a picture, the only picture that is true from the evidence gathered from your very lips, that is like the mirror we polish day in and day out to inch closer to the purest of the pure one day at a time, one stroke at a time. Guilty. That is the picture.
Are you both talking about the same thing? You heard him in there. The picture that he painted was full of metaphors that are meant to hoodwink you into seeing what he wants you to see. There is no possible way that the women of the town could be fornicating with beasts at night. They are not like in kind. They do not mix. Are there some who do? Sure, but is that any of your business? The devil? The devil you are fighting is within you but you want to externalize the issue so that you won't have to face your own fears. It has nothing to do with this sham trial.
Be quiet, you say? Women's lives are on the line, women who are your sons and daughters, aunts and grandmas, friends and acquaintances. The whole dam place is going up in flames because of your actions, not the actions of another who couldn't have possible conjured up a storm that wiped out half of the city coast. Your actions are being led by the devil.
We have lived here our whole lives with the very people you wish to see burned and hanged. Do you not see the devil's work at play here? He, the one that guides your actions because you refuse to take responsibility for your choices, is taking all that we love.
How would I paint a long blond hair that is being consumed by fire?
I would grab the sun with the palms of my hands and bounce it on paper.
How would I paint the screams that come along with the blond hair?
There would be a million banshees next to my eardrum.
How would I paint the smell that accompanies the burning hair?
There would be men digging up bodies where the Nazis buried their prey after the gas had been released into the victim's lung which caused all sorts of breathing issues that led to death in a matter of minutes.
How would I paint the visions that accompany that burning strand of hair?
Like that of fallen angels who torment themselves for having misused the powers that were bestood upon them by the wicked lives they led.
How would I paint my daughter's, mother's, and wife's blond hair you ask after scaring my soul with this mess?
I would paint it, the one thing that is never brought to the forefront of men's minds, the one thing men refuse to see, acknowledge, feel, understand, love, the one thing that keeps you in a state of fear and panic.
Freewrite brought to you by @mariannewest and @freewritehouse
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Old list of completed freewrites
New list:
| Non-Fiction | ||||
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Fiction | ||||
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Uncertain Future | Screeching Tires | No Panic | Dirt Bike | Law and Order |
| Ongoing Stories | Numbered in Order of Story's Progression | ||
|---|---|---|---|
| Poems | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Spider Web |
| Weekend Freewrites: | ||||
|---|---|---|---|---|
| The Ferris Wheel | Lion by the River | The Feeding | Space Ring |
| We-writes (collaborations with community members) | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| The Maze |