Now
(Sherridon Simms)
On Sunday I woke up to light drifting through the paned window. I was Shelly. Born and raised in another surrounding. At only 18 I had really gotten myself into an inessential situation now. I was in jail. Hot and angry I lay in the coiled spring bed. Who could have done this? Framed. A conspiracy. Listening to a man and a woman's taped conversations. Not me. It's just something I would not do. The duo claimed I their babysitter had stole unmarked tapes from their vinly home. The bed felt knarled and hurtful. Raizor sharp specs cut at my back. Shelly, expected for listening. The morning was a dreary one I noticed. Two dark oak trees stood in front of my cell. I would be let out soon. I knew but my only alibly was that my family bail me out. I knew there had to be some way I could prove my innoncence. And that would either be by bail. Or court.
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