I woke up when

I woke up when Jesus came
I was witness to his fame
Once was war without cease;
Now a brand of death called peace.
Silence ever was his food
As he ate he soured the mood.
He was friends with one called Pain
I woke up when Jesus came.

Cold Winter

Her long-sleeve shirt clung to her like a second skin on that unusually warm November day. I found Susanna barefoot and bent unnaturally over the Adirondack chair in her mom's backyard, with her face a few inches above the grass. Her glasses lay broken beside her.

"Suze!" I cried, and raced over, but she was long dead; the bullet had left a bloody trail through her body, now contorted and draped across the lawn chair.

"So, you didn't think I'd do it, and now that it's too late you believe me," Donny said from behind me.

I clenched a fist without turning around. "You think Vinny's men will protect you? They can't stand up to Virginia courts."

Donny laughed. "Peter! We killed the D.A. this morning. What, don't you watch TV, you snot-nosed beggar?" As he spoke he punctuated his words with his palm, for all the world like some benevolent class lecturer. "Lucky for you it ain't too late. Lucky for you the old man's got a soft spot for you. Lucky for you, he's still got a spot on his payroll." He chuckled grotesquely. "Looky. He even got you a welcome-home gift."

I turned reluctantly from Susanna's warm body. Donny tossed me a box of socks. I stared at him.

"Nothing quite as comforting as a warm pair of socks when you're having a cold winter," Donny said gleefully. "Now look inside the sock."

I did. There was a key.

Donny nodded, not smiling for the first time since I'd seen him. "That safe has a cool forty mill in it. Peter. You know what to do."

"Yeah, I do," I said, and punched Donny in his fat gut.

Later they'd find my prints on the gun that killed both him and Suze. That's okay though. Even if I hadn't left prints, Vinny's men would make sure I got blamed for both murders.

I threw the key to the safe down on the lawn by Susanna's feet. I wasn't going to take their money. Not after what they did to Suze.

But those woolen socks were great. I know. I wore a pair of them that cold night on the blind baggage of the overland, and that overland went west.

• A response to Prompt 8

Prompt 8

I'll give you two paragraphs from different stories - one to start your piece and one to end it. Write the connectors in the middle!

Feel free to change the paragraphs too for names or third person/first person or... anything!

1. "Her long-sleeve shirt clung to her like a second skin on that unusually warm November day. Peter found Susanna barefoot and bent over in the Adirondack chair in her mom's backyard, with her face a few inches above the grass." -Cara Haycak, When Things Change.

2. "But those woolen socks were great. I know. I wore a pair of them that night on the blind baggage of the overland, and that overland went west." -Jack London, My Life in the Underworld.

Hey Russ, do you want to give us a prompt? If so, you're tagged!!


Lacey

Den of Thieves

Jack Dawkins looked across the table. The buxom blond was chewing gum, rolling it about with her tongue and working her jaw rapidly.

"So, miss... Nancy, is it?" he said. "I see you've got quite an unusual list of references."

She chewed her gum faster. "Yeah, well. Just ask any of 'em, I'm the best at what I do."

"And you don't get caught?" he prompted, glancing at her hands. "You have light fingers."

She laughed, a little taken off guard, but never stopped chewing gum. "Light Fingers. Aint never been called that before. But sure! Light enough for the work," she insisted, and gave a nod of her head. "Never had any trouble with the law, neither, leastwise none I couldn't wiggle my way out of." She demonstrated her wiggle.

Dawkins stared. "...Yes, well." He looked away, then back again. "I need people on the streets who can handle themselves. I'm sure you wouldn't have any problems artfully dodging any trouble--MISS NANCY!"

Grinning, she paused, her hand hovering delicately at the buttons on her blouse. "What? This is an interview, ain't it? Want to see as I can handle myself, don'tcha?"

Turning red, Dawkins said grimly, "I'm afraid you've misunderstood my particular need for this job. We're a pick-pocket gang, Miss Nancy."

The blond straightened, her gum momentarily forgotten. "Streetwalkers, your ad said," she snapped.

"An ad that shall need to be clarified, I'm afraid," Dawkins told her. "Good day, and - do check to see your purse is in order before you go. Some of the new recruits like to practice."

Nancy snapped open her purse with a furious gasp.

"And, er, should you ever decide to reconsider your career, Miss Nancy - come back and see old Jack Dawkins."

• A response to Prompt 7
  

Prompt 7

This prompt comes from Bryan:

A case of mistaken identity!

*tags Lacey* You're it!

Story due Thursday, July 17, 2008.

What Sapling tells his Seedling

There once was an impatient maple
Who grew foolishly fast as he was able.
The wind blew up his skirt,
He tore loose from the dirt,
And starred posthumous in this pro-patience fable.

• A response to Prompt 6
  

Prompt 6

This prompt is from Evan:

A fable.

Story due Thursday, July 10.

Bryan tagged for the next prompt.

Invisible Man

There was silence.

"Er," said Claude. "That's all."

Vinny sat back in his seat. His face twisted in displeasure, but his fingers withdrew mercifully from the button. "I have more sins than that, you know."

"Yes, sir," Claude agreed hastily. As an afterthought: "Most of your sins have probably never seen the daylight. There's no way I could recite them all."

"You could have found a lot more than one," Vinny's measured voice rebuked. "You could have researched. You could have spied on me. Or you could have made someone else spy on me for you. You could have walked in to the FBI office in Virginia, faked a memo or two, found their passwords, found their data on me, and destroyed it."

Claude blinked.

"In fact, that's what I'd like you to do," Vinny said, spreading his hands. "How does five grand and another shot at life sound?"

Claude, the Invisible Man, sat down with a wumph in the chair opposite Vinny.

Claude had always counted himself a "good at heart" kind of guy. Though no one in his life had been able to actually see him, somehow his mother and Sunday school teachers had connected enough with him to instill a sort of morality. Before a big decision, he would ask himself, "If the world were to end tomorrow, come Jesus and Satan both, to judge mankind, what's the decision I'd be proud to say I made?"

But this encounter led Claude to discover that his mother and Sunday school teachers had instilled something else deep inside him... something that no fear of mortal judgment could shake.

The moments that passed in heavy thought were short. "I want to be seen," Claude said decisively. "I want you to look me in the eyes and talk to me. So help me God, if you can do that - if you can teach me how and why you can see me - I'll do whatever you want."

Keeping Claude's gaze, Vinny nodded. The rings on his fingers glittered as he moved his hand to the button on his desk, and pressed it.

"Marco," Vinny said into the intercom, never breaking eye contact with the invisible man, "Get the limo ready. Gonna send the new hand to Langley."

• Continued from Part One
• A response to Prompt 5