Catapult 26.8.2017 rc emc

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Ancaeus slayer of beasts had assumed his power and drove her on with his spear. Thrown forward into the annals of the undergrowth, her mind became saturated with a mist of fear.

The slap was hard and the remorse uneven his face a crumbling attrition. The regularity of this as a control was sublimated until now. She felt faint.

He told her drive to the top of the car park. The traffic was backed up. Subordinated she acceded unquestioningly.

Her eyes started to well up as she drove. Parking in the handicap spot he came toward her window. She wound it down ‘please’, he said, I’m sorry. I don’t know. I don’t know why. Look I’m really sorry, he kept saying.

It’s always the same the repentance from consumptive anger. The nearest target. Her face nice and ripe for a constraining slap.

He couldn’t have known what trigger he had pulled. Humiliated the tears fell. Please go away. Look take my details, my name. Go Away. He walked away and came back. Walked away again then attempted

another go at talking to her.

Looking in he saw her weep but it was not for it but for her life. She could not cavil with this distress and he knew it.

A wild boar fled through her, as a tumult of tears fell. Home and sobbing like the heave in a clapotis she suffocated beneath the crushing wave.

Pushing her way through the front door, they stood staring as she cried out accosting the air with anguish. Crying loud and gulping for air who is this person what is happening to her.

Their faces fixed and stunned and pale with angst they looked at each other with ‘what is going on ‘ in their eyes. She sat down and grabbed her chest as pain radiated across it; a deep dull pain asphyxiated her.

She felt sick. Is her heart giving in?

What do you want from me she said to no one in particular. I’m sick to death of it all. Into the car she was taken off.

There is many a slip between the cup and the lip. What’s waiting.


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