Trembling Fingers Grasp the Pen

The masked intruder burst through my front door. While exiting a window, I heard pops. He missed, but he pursued me as I fled. Without my cell, I couldn’t call the cops. Fear moved my legs; prayer led me to a place to hide. From my safe vantage point I saw him re-enter my house. He robbed me blind. I wrote of this when feelings were still raw. fictional write 68 WORDS--March 6, 2017 written for Laura Loo's What Doesn't Kill Us Contest