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Shadow Conspiracy- chapter oneRiley was day-dreaming about landing a three-sixty on her bike when she realized she was falling behind on the math notes. She took her hands out of her hoodie pockets and picked up her pen. Mr.Staton, her teacher, continued explaining how to solve the last equation, oblivious to her furious scribbling. She was just about to finish compying the white board, when Mr.Staton erased it. Riley sat back in her chair with a sigh and rolled her eyes. She tured to the cute guy sitting next to her, bored. He was scribbling stick figures on the bottom of his own unfinished notes. Then she glanced at the clock- only 15 minutes left until it was finally the weekend! Mr.Staton looked at the clock himself.
"Ok, we have just enough time to start our homework!" He said, the whole class moaning. Riley hated when her teachers assigned homework over the weekend. She never usually did it.The girl in fornt her passed back the worksheet.riley put it in her notebook and continued scribbling checkered hearts o
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
longdead leafa longdead leaf
burnt brown in the depth of green
cups a handful of fresh water
a leaf left behind
holds something of worth
forgoing death with its dead body
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