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    A View From Forever (Thompson Sisters Book 3)

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      Shit. Time to go.

      I turn back to Alex, meeting her eyes one last time, and I bring my fingers to her face with a feather touch.

      Then I leave her, with two last words.

      I promise.

      Nickel Mines

      (Crank and Julia Wilson, 2006)

      A one room schoolhouse

      Fields of grain

      Soft sounds of rural life

      Creaking of leather straps and wagon wheels

      Manure and hickory smoke

      The wind blows metallic terror

      as a truck backs up into a nightmare

      A man

      torn by

      something?

      “I’m trying to find something he says”

      to disarm

      then he brings out the guns

      The clatter of rounds in the chamber

      A threat revealed

      Some escape

      Some are let go

      adults with babies, and all the boys

      hot with fear and sweat

      but the girls are kept in quivering terror

      zip ties cut into the flesh

      trembling faith stretched thin by evil

      Some real or imagined offense

      far in the man’s past

      brings murder to Nickel Mines

      take me first, says one girl, that the others may live

      a second girl asks for the same

      One shot, two, three, then four. Five and six. Seven.

      Eight. Nine.

      Ten.

      Naomi and Lena. Mary Liz and Anna Mae. Marion

      all dead

      I would ask

      did the killer believe in Jesus and

      if so, was he whisked straight to heaven?

      How do you get justice when someone kills themselves after murdering children?

      When it was all over

      the families sought out the wife and children of the killer

      and touched them

      offered help

      reconciliation

      love

      for the families, how is it that the first thing they did

      was

      forgive?

      Going Home

      (Dylan Paris, December 2007)

      My thoughts are sharp, battering

      through the mind.

      Over the roar of engines I see sky,

      grey as tensile steel. A shiver.

      Breath is like a phantom,

      waving in its white loneliness,

      going nowhere.

      The roar becomes a scream,

      a scream in my heart,

      magic turned cold.

      Tears.

      Over the pitching roar,

      my life is torn apart,

      the heart cries injustice.

      As the rain begins.

      Shambling on the plane,

      sleep is welcome,

      covering the bleeding void,

      cool sweet darkness sweeps over,

      anesthetic and warm.

      A View From Forever

      Copyright 2015 Charles Sheehan-Miles

      Published by Cincinnatus Press

      PO Box 814

      South Hadley MA 01075

      All Rights Reserved

      ISBN 9781632021199

     

     

     



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