I’ve been skirting the idea of writing something for Friday Fitcioneers at the wonderful Madison Wood’s blog (link takes you to today’s post). After seeing the incredible photo prompt for this week, I had to give it a go:
House Of the Rising Sun
What a difference a few hours made.
Earl sat in the dirt outside the house and smoked his last cigarette. Twenty-four hours ago the dawn sky had looked bruised – all purple and red and black – but this morning it was beautiful. When last had anything seemed beautiful? Except Annie, of course.
The fury swelled through his veins like a river in flood when Earl remembered Annie. He looked at the two black entranceways to the house as he dragged agitatedly on his cigarette. If she was still alive she would finally be safe. She and Earl could go to Vegas.