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
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