The Murderous Man

As the old withered man slowly trudged through the damp mud-stricken snow, which was in large piles, he carefully swivelled around so I could see his wrinkly face against the dark eerie sky. There was a bright light. Could it be a star? No, it’s too bright. Maybe it’s a street lamp? No, that’s even brighter. I looked up into the mans glistening water-blue eyes and saw a glint of life flickering into my face, as if his eyes were a fire. I peered into his black shiny pupils and saw his past. Torches floating above houses and tree’s, motionless people lying onto blood-infected ground, with dark red liquid pouring out off big gashes! As I came back to the present, the mans eyes were now filled with tears, tears of joy...

Comments that people have made about this blog post

Comment 1 Comment by Mr Herring on 05 Feb 12 at 4:12pm | Quote this comment
Molly, this is a really good piece of writing - I love the way you describe 'his wrinkly face against the dark eerie sky.' You had me captivated - I really wanted to read on - why has he got tears of joy in his eyes? Could you write the next bit for us?
Comment 2 Comment by Molly C on 07 Feb 12 at 3:44pm | Quote this comment
Okay Mr. Herring! I'l think about what I can do.
Comment 3 Comment by Stephanie F on 24 Feb 12 at 10:24pm | Quote this comment

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