Chilled mist pressed in on all sides, dampening her clothes and clinging to her skin and sending shivers skating down her spine as the cold and clamminess enveloped her. The last of the autumn leaves fluttered to the ground, falling nearly as quietly as the whispers around her–the whispers that seethed through the air as she drew closer to her goal.
Her destination rose in the distance. Fog obscured the majority of the building, and the windows reminded her of angry unblinking eyes. Eyes that were currently boring holes into her soul. But she refused to be intimidated. She refused to turn back. She’d come too goddamn far, and silence was no longer an option.
The seething became roiling and the whispers turned to shouts, but she pressed on. She had too much at stake–too much to lose–to turn back now. The polls closed at eight, and she’d make damn sure she was heard.
That’s it for me today, be sure to check out the other bloggers’ stories.