Monday, February 11, 2013

100 Words a Day 183, 36 Plots 20/36

He sat, waiting. The soldiers broke his door down, but he didn’t stir. He pushed the sound of their heavy boots from his mind.

They found him sitting, the eye of the storm they had created upon entering his house. With the thrust of a spear, the man’s meditation was ended forever.

The underpeople heard about the death of the man. His words had circulated among them and he had many followers. His death only grew their numbers.

It was only a few at first, but the number daily. When the brutish overseers came, they simply sat, silent and unmoving.

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