Susan’s attack: She knew her black-oxide covered knife, in the sheath on her right leg, better than any close friend. In her left hand, it was stabbing into the officer’s femoral artery before Colonel Scanders registered Susan’s hazel eyes boring into her. Susan drove the blade into the crook of Scanders’ leg, piercing her groin and drawing the blade down.

Knife Army from Pixabay

As the officer fell on the leaves and dirt beside the building’s door, Susan crawled over her conquest, smothered her mouth, and…

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Greg Prince

Bringing real feelings along with messages of inspiration and imagination to life. Awakening is the symptom of my infectious condition. Poetry is my condition.