She sits in her cell. Trapped in a life never asked for, surrounded by the dark ghostly shadows of people she once called friends. But now, they’re only: bone built, skin covered, strangers that she wishes would decay to nothing. Weariness so great that all she pleads for is eternal slumber. Death will never scare her, for she invites the dark-hooded, silk-covered passenger to take her far from this foreign land. Let him pull her on his white, ghostly stallion and carry her away to where she at least will have solitude— something, she desires. All there is left to do is run. Where her soul can no longer be found nor linger for others toxic tones to dilute the mind, and further drive her into agony. Tired of the mistrust, for nothing can be found but an ice cold, unvisited capstone. For she feels like a fish without its fins, soon just hoping to drown and be flushed into the ground, forgotten. Nothing but a mark of pain has been left on this world. The thought engulfs her brain, as her motionless body lay hearing time tick away. Counting the seconds till her shallow breathing stops—and peace can be brought back to a tortured soul. For society is the deliverer of the sharp knife, the start and end of the pain, bring back the feeling of peace—something forgotten. Death brings a calming thought, like an infant going down for a nap, finally crying itself to sleep. The weary mind can no longer call from its discomfort. Her eyes close. In the distance, she hears hooves.
Brooke Morgan is as basic as the name entails. She’s a suspected vampire by her classmates because of her Belarusian roots, love for red lipstick and leather jackets. She is a four-year cadet who has seen every aspect of the system. PFC Morgan is excited to see The Maverick take off and contribute to it after sitting through many English Club meets about bringing it back.