Pointing

Day 19 and nothing but a few lines on paper.  See if I can get something down.

The creature emerged from his concealment and rescued the boy’s body from its cover.  He held him gently and asked his pardon.  He thought it just a game he said.  He knew so little of this world he had been pulled into, and the more he did know, the more he disliked it.  He said a prayer as it seemed the thing to do, but he knew not to whom, he did not have the same loving creator that others had.  He lay his small friend carefully on the clearest area of the path and brushed the leaves and dirt from his face and clothes.  The boy would at least be found.

He rescued  the chain from where it had been thrown.  It held a locket with a woman’s portrait.  He stared a moment at the sweet face and felt a terrible sorrow.  This no doubt was the boy’s dead mother.  He wondered if the dead felt grief, poor woman.  It was his intention to return it to the boy’s neck, but then thought he would wait.  The necklace may be useful.

He followed the path he assumed the girl to have taken uncertain of what action he would take if he were to find her.  He searched various hollows and sheds until he came upon a barn.  He looked inside and found the girl sleeping blamelessly in a corner. He looked upon the sleeping murderous and wondered how something so pretty and gentle in appearance could commit the brutal crime that had just occurred.  He found it difficult to reconcile.  He took the locket and placed it in a pocket within her skirts and then slowly retreated.  He could not announce what he saw but he could tell them in other ways.

He headed up into the hills.  All safety was gone now.  He could not be certain if his evidence would be discovered and they would be hunting a murderer shortly.  He could not afford to be found in the area.

 

 

 

 

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Author: karensnovemberbook

I am a textile artist, cafe owner and mother of two who has decided I don't have enough to do and so am going to write a novel in a month. Hey, it's easier with a clear deadline, right? Here goes. . .

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