Fighting terrorism is like being a goalkeeper. You can make a hundred brilliant saves but the only shot that people remember is the one that gets pasts you.
Paul Wilkinson - British scholar
Paul Wilkinson - British scholar
A pale beam of light underscored the garage door, allowing only the smallest glimpse into the oppressive darkness. In the far reaches of the left corner, behind a stacked pile of red bricks from the previous owner of the establishment, a covert meeting of religious significance was being held. Thousands of fleas had assembled for the daily rites to Flallah, laying down their rugs in proper order and arranging themselves for the initial opening prayers.
In the back of the congregation, two fleas casually approached one another, nodding in recognition of the other. Had fleas been blessed with eyes, their's would have shown with purpose.
Leaning over, the taller of the two whispered, "Is everything ready?"
The shorter one nodded. "Flallah willing, this coup will be a tremendous success."
"Tomorrow then," the taller one stated. "We will light this House aflame."
With that, the two set their prayer rugs on the ground and began their devotions for the mission set out before them.
In the back of the congregation, two fleas casually approached one another, nodding in recognition of the other. Had fleas been blessed with eyes, their's would have shown with purpose.
Leaning over, the taller of the two whispered, "Is everything ready?"
The shorter one nodded. "Flallah willing, this coup will be a tremendous success."
"Tomorrow then," the taller one stated. "We will light this House aflame."
With that, the two set their prayer rugs on the ground and began their devotions for the mission set out before them.
3 comments:
oooooooooooo sounds like an exciting story!
Hey there! Just stopping by to let you know that your sketch is done.
Good luck with the rest of the blogathon!
We know this is late, but we're catching up and just discovered your narrative. We didn't know fleas don't have eyes!
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