It struck him as odd that the news cameras didn’t capture the small incision in his father’s casket. Within it held the pistol he used to gun down the man who killed ten people. The black man felt the box and ran his hands over the part where the gun had been inserted.
There was a bit of a smirk on the dead man’s face as if he knew his heroic actions had a powerful effect on the people of Wilmington, Delaware. The photo of the suit he was to be buried in was sent around the world with vim.
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Skyler Saunders
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Smartystan
Breath issued from Angelica’s mouth. The weight of the baby put her into her chair. Her curves managed to say she had not been with child the whole time. There seemed to be a fantastic ideal swimming somewhere in her mind about the hazards of caring for two. She grabbed a magazine and fanned herself, knowing that she expended more energy in that effort sitting still and letting the air conditioning do the job. No, she told herself, without struggle there is no triumph. She switched on the television set. The picture looked as people had been replaced by blue aliens and she just watched her soap opera, void of extraterrestrials for this time.
By Skyler SaundersExclusive • about 4 hours ago
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During the night of the last quarter moon, I gathered my ritual supplies. I carefully handled the chunk of black tourmaline that would protect me from your overall negative and narcissistic energy. I carefully walked the house with my stick of selenite in hand, asking the universe to cleanse our working space.
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