The air was filled with the smoke and stench of the burning craft. It felt like a sanctity – the sanctity of this previously untouched space in yellow rock and sparse forest – had been desecrated. Death had trespassed, and its surly presence lingered. I, the eagle above, noticed.
– Niebla ( © 2009 )
Written using seven words from Café Writing: air, burning, craft, eagle, sanctity, space, surly, trespass.