(no subject)
July 10, 2012
7:12 AM
( My life flows on in endless song / Above earth's lamentations)
With a dull sense of detachment, David rubbed his fingers together, trying to remove some of the ink. He'd spent so long holding the newspaper, rereading the front page, that the ink had bled onto his skin, leaving dark gray smudges on his hands.
He looked down at the paper again. Buried on the fifteenth page, was a story about Charles Logan's reelection and another about the summit meeting with Chinese officials. It had taken him nearly an hour to read the stories, his attention wandering. There'd been another attack today, this time in Philadelphia. Most of the dead were children. It was no longer a question of whether an attack would happen but when and how bad it would be.
Over the background noise of the phones, the television and assorted voices, he could hear his brother and a few aides going over his speech for tonight. As he had expected, his refusal to stand by the internment plan was drawing more critcism than praise. Much of it from his own party. He knew he didn't have a lock on the nomination, especially after the DNC chairman called to say as much. His staff was now in a flurry, running polls to see how bad the "damage" would be.
David folded the paper again, the crease now soft and worn, and looked out the window. The morning sun poured through the open curtains, sunlight lit the room in golden tones and made it feel warmer than it was. From where he stood, he had clear view of the city. The words of an old Shaker hymn echoed in his mind, giving him a sense of calm. A sense that, this too shall pass.
(While though the tempest loudly roars / I hear the truth, He liveth.)
Distantly, he hears the sound of glass shattering and it's hard to breathe all of a sudden. He's looking up at the ceiling, not sure how he fell or why there's all this (screaming, shouting, crying) noise when it had been so quiet before...
"David! No, no, no." Wayne's at his side, hands covered in blood as he touches his neck and chest. "Stay with me, David. Stay with me."
Pain and fire radiated through his chest and neck, warm like liquid as it slid across his skin, pooling around him. He tries to focus on his brother, opening his mouth to ask his brother for help because he's sure he's drowning. But the words don't come.
(And though the darkness ’round me close / Songs in the night it giveth.)
7:12 AM
( My life flows on in endless song / Above earth's lamentations)
With a dull sense of detachment, David rubbed his fingers together, trying to remove some of the ink. He'd spent so long holding the newspaper, rereading the front page, that the ink had bled onto his skin, leaving dark gray smudges on his hands.
He looked down at the paper again. Buried on the fifteenth page, was a story about Charles Logan's reelection and another about the summit meeting with Chinese officials. It had taken him nearly an hour to read the stories, his attention wandering. There'd been another attack today, this time in Philadelphia. Most of the dead were children. It was no longer a question of whether an attack would happen but when and how bad it would be.
Over the background noise of the phones, the television and assorted voices, he could hear his brother and a few aides going over his speech for tonight. As he had expected, his refusal to stand by the internment plan was drawing more critcism than praise. Much of it from his own party. He knew he didn't have a lock on the nomination, especially after the DNC chairman called to say as much. His staff was now in a flurry, running polls to see how bad the "damage" would be.
David folded the paper again, the crease now soft and worn, and looked out the window. The morning sun poured through the open curtains, sunlight lit the room in golden tones and made it feel warmer than it was. From where he stood, he had clear view of the city. The words of an old Shaker hymn echoed in his mind, giving him a sense of calm. A sense that, this too shall pass.
(While though the tempest loudly roars / I hear the truth, He liveth.)
Distantly, he hears the sound of glass shattering and it's hard to breathe all of a sudden. He's looking up at the ceiling, not sure how he fell or why there's all this (screaming, shouting, crying) noise when it had been so quiet before...
"David! No, no, no." Wayne's at his side, hands covered in blood as he touches his neck and chest. "Stay with me, David. Stay with me."
Pain and fire radiated through his chest and neck, warm like liquid as it slid across his skin, pooling around him. He tries to focus on his brother, opening his mouth to ask his brother for help because he's sure he's drowning. But the words don't come.
(And though the darkness ’round me close / Songs in the night it giveth.)