Paul smiled bitterly, but said nothing. She got the sudden, strong feeling that this man—alien, rather—hated her. Not just hated Utopians, but her. Coming from behind unreadable yellow eyes—alien eyes, now that she thought of it—made her skin prickle uncomfortably. She wondered again if she was walking into a trap.
She smiled at them, masking her unease.
This story is okay. I hope it gets more exciting later on.
These lines were the best of your poem. It really signified and emphasised the promise of God. Excellent job. You were able to convey imagery, emotion, and the flow words perfectly.
Sometimes when I get still...
and all that I hear is the space
around me...
and sometimes when my heartbeat pounds
in my ears,
drowning the noise,
swallowing my busyness,
I hear it...
The sound of wooing,
the whisper of Promise,
The first part really pulled me in.
Keep writing you're good at it.
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