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Virtue's Farewell, 20
Braving the cold, wet wind in her face, Rosalyn faced the great,
lumbering gray warship as it moved into the harbor at Liverpool. She
buttoned up her coat and anxiously strained her eyes fighting to get a
glimpse of Cyril as the ship came closer. However the ship was packed
with thousands of faces all looking back at the throngs with her on the
docks. It had been months since she'd seen her love and even then it
had only been a short period of time between her clemency approval and
his departure for Turkey. This time, however, not only did he get to
spend Christmas at home, but he had 30 days leave before he had to join
his new unit in France. Fortunately she'd been granted two days off to
come pick him up and travel back to London. At first she'd figured his
family would be at the docks to greet him but his latest letter assured
her that he had told his family that it was her face he wished to see
when he dis
Virtue's Farewell, 19
"Willie Denton," said the recruiter. "How have you been, young man?"
"I'm well, Mr. Pummel," Willie replied. "I want to sign up to fight."
Willie Denton was finally going to get into the action. He had
graduated from school and now it was his turn to throw himself into the
fray as any man with an ounce of patriotism would want to do. At age
eighteen he was strong and energetic. Though his baby face, light
brown hair and spittle of freckles made him appear soft and cuddly, he
considered himself a man and one who could handle a scrap. Twice
during the past year he had done well for himself in fist-fights
against boys who had things to say about his sister. Of course, this
same person whose honor he'd defended would do everything in her power
to keep him from doing what was his right as a man.
"How is your sister, Willie?" Mr. Pummel was a kindly old man who had
been a friend to his father
Leaving Southampton She was in the kitchen when he stumbled in noisily, tripping as he went past the shelves and catching the edge of the table to keep himself from falling.
Pretending not to hear the stream of curses that followed, she kept her eyes fixed on the dishes, letting her hand trail in the soapy water. There was a loud scraping of wood against grimy concrete as he drew a chair and collapsed into it. At this she looked up, and after a moment's hesitation, she said, unnecessarily, "You've been drinking."
He clutched his head and said nothing. He hadn't shaved in weeks and stank of sweat and alcohol; he looked much older than his eighteen years.
They sat in silence for a while. Then he announced, loudly, "Fuck."
She didn't bother to tell him off. She just waited. And jumped when he suddenly brought his fist down, hard, onto the table.
"Our lives here are s
Our DutyWe swallowed the path home
Because we were hungry,
Though starving is an ongoing
Story, an empty bag
Dancing in the streets,
Full of an unfastened voice
Walking through the house,
Wind unchained, heart admonished.
Heaven fills its eyes, crawls away,
That sleeping boat content to follow
The vacant waves, intervals
Of dying that we dare not interrupt,
And we watch the kind ear shrinking
From our charcoal docks; heaven
With a full stomach crawls away.
This is what we were put here for.
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More