Fire Went The Wind

hty-dollar Rolex. A fake but a good Chinese imitation. The time was 12:38 P.M. Twenty-two minutes to lunch time. Twenty-two minutes before he could finally break away from the herd. He placed a

ed to ig

s and principles and upholding the un

otes on what Mrs. White was saying. He couldn’t help but let slip a mocking lau

louse with a snowflake pattern so big it looked like a curtain on her tiny body. Only the r

and they hung halfway down the bridge

ould hear them but she took no action. The gossip spread in that same circle in an instant, like a veld

ser and he was slowly getting tempted to take a bite. His curiosity deepened as he continued to swim upwards to latch on to the b

gliding on the waxed floor. A floor which the janitors must have toiled on all morning. Chad did not have breakfast that morning so he was not sure what time the floors had

taking in the students as they walked in. He took a third bite from his cornbread. A bite after every fifteen seconds, fork employed. He did not allow his skin to come in contact with his food, a sanitary law he had observed since childhood. The broccoli and peas were

nto his tongue, their bland taste quickly engulfed by the sweet interior. The absence of My

age,’ a voi

that of a bullmastiff. It had an autumn aura about it. He had a premature facial structure but the depth of his voice when he announced his name pointed to someone who had effectively mastered puberty. Autumn eyes to match the brown, mastiff hair (consistency at least). A flannel shirt (okay, a free s

sey Holmes.’ He gave

ncy like he had won the lottery. His dull, brown eyes swung back to Cha

ical S

ly, slurping more of the