He had never been political
Had never fought the system back.
He lived a life beneath the radar
and then
they killed his brother.
His innocent seven old baby brother
who never made it home from school
that day.
Blood for blood
Whatever the reason.
Driven by angst and rage he lit the rag
and threw
The first of many.
There was no number
that would ever bring
his baby brother back.
This week’s entry for 
Looking at the castle Rebecca could hardly believe just a few hours earlier, her world had changed forever.
It looked different in the daylight, smaller somehow. The magic had gone and in a few short hours the driveway would be open to the public. Eagerly climbing stone steps of the past and murmuring in delight about the view from the turrets.
It was on the top of the hillside near the moat where they picked a spot to sit, his arm wrapped casually across her shoulders. The pale moonlight shining just enough to expose silvery skin. They kissed and delved beneath each others clothing.
Thinking back, Rebecca closed her eyes and saw him again, about what she had seen, then ran from the place where such a spectacular memory was created, down the hillside home. Where she would hide under her covers and pretend she had been there all night.
awritersfountain 