giegie77
She had the basic framework for her novel—she had been planning it for years. But she just couldn't seem to get the words out, or get it to flow. She sighed and threw her head on the desk.
"It's no use," she cried aloud. "I've been at this for five years and I cannot get it out. Maybe I wasn't meant to write this novel after all!"
She poured her heart out to him, tore at his clothes, and beat his chest. But none of that moved him. All it did was make him push her away and turn his back to her. He didn't love her, and nothing she could say or do would change that. She couldn't force him to feel something that simply wasn't there.
The mayor slammed down the phone receiver and sat down at his desk. There was no way he was going to be able to stop the menace from entering the city and destroying every living thing in its wake. It was too late. All hope was lost.
She looked up at the cathedral, at it's intricate design, and gargoyles staring menacingly down onto the world below. A shiver went down her spine. For a place to be so holy and "good", it certainly seemed unsettling to her. Evil, even.