@brooklynborne

She had one simple mission, stop her target at all costs. The comprised agent was dead but unfortunately his,companions put up a fight. Now she was grappling with a man with a shield. Struggling for the upper hand, so she could finish him off.

✪ my muse seeing the ghost of your muse

Martha watched as the owner of the bar set a stool for her on the stage, her guitar in her hands as she slowly stepped up and sat down. It wasn’t exceptionally crowded tonight, about half the usual. “Hi, um, my name’s Martha and...well...I’m gonna be singing Traveling Soldier. I hope you enjoy it.” She said quietly as she adjusted the mic and strummed the first few chords. 

“Two days past eighteen He was waiting for the bus in his army green Sat down in a booth in a cafe there Gave his order to a girl with a bow in her hair He's a little shy so she gives him a smile And he said would you mind sittin' down for a while And talking to me, I'm feeling a little low She said I'm off in an hour and I know where we can go..” 

As she started singing though, her shy and timid voice became powerful and heartfelt with each word leaving her lips.

“So they went down and they sat on the pier He said I bet you got a boyfriend but I don't care I got no one to send a letter to Would you mind if I sent one back here to you I cried Never gonna hold the hand of another guy Too young for him they told her Waitin' for the love of a travelin' soldier Our love will never end Waitin' for the soldier to come back again Never more to be alone when the letter said A soldier's coming home So the letters came from an army camp In California then Vietnam And he told her of his heart It might be love and all of the things he was so scared of He said when it's getting kinda rough over here I think of that day sittin' down at the pier And I close my eyes and see your pretty smile Don't worry but I won't be able to write for awhile I cried Never gonna hold the hand of another guy Too young for him they told her Waitin' for the love of a travelin' soldier Our love will never end Waitin' for the soldier to come back again Never more to be alone when the letter said A soldier's coming home One Friday night at a football game The Lord's Prayer said and the Anthem sang A man said folks would you bow your heads For a list of local Vietnam dead Crying all alone under the stands Was a piccolo player in the marching band And one name read but nobody really cared But a pretty little girl with a bow in her hair I cried Never gonna hold the hand of another guy Too young for him they told her Waitin' for the love of a travelin' soldier Our love will never end Waitin' for the soldier to come back again Never more to be alone when the letter said A soldier's coming 

I cried Never gonna hold the hand of another guy Too young for him they told her Waitin' for the love of a travelin' soldier Our love will never end Waitin' for the soldier to come back again Never more to be alone when the letter said A soldier's coming home” 

Sharon ran her hand through her hair, biting down on her bottom lip. She wasn’t sure if Steve was right, could she pull this off? Being Anastasia was going to take a lot to truly have the people believing in her, and then there was him. He’d left her wondering, was she truly going to be happy? 

          Maybe it was the nightlife that kept her interest glowing. It wasn't the ruckus that shot down bourbon street every night, not the drunken stupor of the locals when the superbowl let out, and not the smell of spicy seafood that came from the inner workings of Jackson Square. 

          Her footsteps clashed with the laid stone and low puddles that splashed against her shoes, the splattering of an overhead drizzle pushing her further inside of the iron gates and toward the great cathedral. It was open at all times and always a source of respite. While the religion and gods were not something she knew of, the architecture was grand and the constant sound of choir men put her tense heart at ease.

           The harsh light overhead cast over white skin and dark hair, her head turned down as she entered one of the pews. She heard murmuring far to her right and ushered along, standing beside a man of broad shoulders in a dark, khaki jacket. 

            She supposed that he might have been praying. Was that not what people did here? But the silence was deafening and her mind was quickly filling.