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Besieged

The wind roared, battering against the walls and clattering the window. Rain richocheted off the panes. More unfortunate drops splattered onto the glass, disintegrating into a watery death. The building was under seige from the elements. Inside, a roar eclipsed the noise of the wind, and the fist of Brother Septimus hammered on his desk. “WRITE!” Frozen fingers gripped the pen and resumed their scratching at the paper. More than a building was under siege.

Paragraph Planet, Nov 15, 2015

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About Hawksword

Reluctant writer, word dabbler...tea maker, coffee drinker, rum imbiber, chocolate eater.

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