As David splashed through the creek bed after leaving his mother, he couldn’t help but cry. He had loved her, and her death would have been horrible. Maybe he should have stayed and tried to help her fight them off, but she demanded he run. The fear in her voice had been so intense. He had to listen. He had to obey.
She had taught him to be strong, but she had also shown him there was great strength in recognizing his weaknesses. He would honor her with his life.
The creek was cold and he felt far enough along to step out and try to find shelter from the deepening darkness. As he clambered over the slippery rocks, his shin was gouged by a protruding twig.
Nothing like leaving a trail of blood when being chased by killers he thought to himself. Maybe they didn’t know about him. Maybe they wouldn’t try to find him. He has to get it cleaned up though, and he could see some smoke rising a little way away. The “Outcasts” don’t like fire, so it should be safe to venture toward it. Maybe they would have something to bandage his wound with as well.
David drew closer and could smell that some sort of oil was being burned with the fire. It looked like three old women were the only ones by the fire. David was out of options as he stepped from the cover of the woods.
This is part of a book I’m writing as we go. A blog book if you will. Yeah, I know that’s not how people are supposed to go about writing/publishing/promoting books, but I’ve never been a fan of rules.
My previous post was the forward to it.
It’s too late. The fire is dying.
Shhh, I think I hear something.
Huddled around the dwindling fire, the women spoke with haggard voices that suited their aged faces.
They listened carefully for any movement, the smallest sign that tonight would bring what they had long waited for.
Leaves rustled in the distance, followed by the sharp snap of a twig.
Hurry, he’s coming! Bring the oil!
They placed the pan with the oil on the fire and soon a strange earthy aroma melded with the warmth from the fire. The rustling in the woods was coming closer. Even the fire seemed to quiver with anticipation.
Remember, he doesn’t know. It is not for us to tell him.
Shhh, he’s here.
The women’s knowing eyes looked at last on the face they had seen only in their visions…the frightened, dirty face of the boy who stumbled out of the woods.
“Run, David! Dont let them see you!” He would never forget the look in his mother’s eyes. Desperation and fear were etched on her face.
David gave her one last hug, and with tears in his eyes he did as he was told. “Run David” echoed in his mind as he raced out the back door, willing himself not to look back.
The woods did not seem as frightening as the image in his mind of what was coming to his house. To his mother. He couldn’t have saved her. She was dead either way.
As he entered the saplings near the edge of the forest, he heard sounds of glass breaking, followed by a blood curdling scream. It would be over soon. Keep running, David told himself. After what seemed like hours, he came to a small river.
Though only 10 years old, David knew that the Outcasts wouldn’t venture into water. Even for him.
As he stepped into the cool water, he said quick prayer that his mother’s death would be quick and complete, and that he would survive the night. He didn’t know if God was real, but he needed all the help he could get.
My husband H.H. (Hobbler’s Husband) Wrote this. I think he should start a blog for his writing. What do you think?
He just told me he saw it in a dream. The words on the computer screen. So he woke up and typed it. He thought it wouldn’t make sense to other people. How lucky right? I want to dream of words…
Falling asleep a knock at the door
Hurry to answer it
There’s a man, you know the one
The one from the dreams
Do you let him in