When they got back
the door was ajar,
the handle smeared
with some dark, subtle substance.
The boys were still asleep
and her light was on
but she had gone
screaming out of that place.
You could feel it ringing in the walls
and on the smooth, mark-missed floor tiles
with not a thing to tell their heavy, searching eyes
if she had struggled,
if she had even tried.
Agitation of hands. Strength of words. 
where’d the inspiration for this come from man? i like it
I’m currently stuck in Portugal due to the volcanic ash cloud thingy. This is cos I was thinking about the Madeline McCann thing.
Although technically, I believe the parents did it.
oh wow, yeah I agree with you about the parents.
hope you get home soon