General

When we got back to the flat there was a light on inside and the door was ajar. Figuring Jerry had let himself in again to raid the fridge we walked right in. It took a few seconds for our brains to translate the image they saw as reality. Our carefully ordered world had been systematically ransacked. The filing cabinet was open and the contents strewn like ugly confetti over the hardwood. The bookshelves lay bare, their previous contents in haphazard piles on the floor. Even the family portraits were roughly smashed into the floor, their frames ripped apart and photos tossed to one side. Whoever had been here was desperate to find something. But what? And would they come back?

By tarawatson41, October 20, 2014.
General

We had dragged a battering ram with six strong horses across the dale. We meant to break down the palace gates and execute the duke, he'd collected his last taxes from our hides. But when dawn cast the sandstone walls into brighter relief than a mere silhouettes, we could tell that someone else had beaten us to it. The thick oak doors hung loosely on their hinges, creaking in the wind. No light came from within and it was as silent as the grave. Windows were smashed and bore the unmistakable black marks of soot around them. It had been ransacked and set on fire. At the gate was the duke himself, ready to welcome us in. Or he would have had his head not been on a spike.

By tarawatson41, October 20, 2014.