Andy sat in the murky light of morning and stared down at the rising mists. The curtains at his window shivered. The air was awakening after a cold night.
Autumn chill slithered through Andy, but he didn't budge. He didn't reach for the sweatshirt folded on his dresser. He didn't pull the comforter from his bed. He ignored the crumbled leaves and twigs knotted in his hair. The mirror reflected his empty expression and the dirt smeared on his forehead and chin.
Ever since he escaped the forest, he sat there. Waiting. He stared through the mists to the tree line. His eyes bored into the persisting night.
When the sun finally boiled over the horizon, it lit his face, but he perceived only darkness. And, the voice. A child's voice.
On to Part 2
Based on the legend of the Will-o'-the-Wisp
ghost
5 comments:
Is this going to be very scary? Hmmm?
Anne, on your link to me, you give a subtitle, fact or fiction? Since everything here so far, except the poem "She Dreamed of a House" has been true, I wanted to be clear that this story is pure fiction. Therefore, I have no restraints! So...yes, it's going to be very scary!
Forgottenmachine, I really enjoy this blog writing, but I'm also trying to balance work on my second novel, THE BACKWARDS PATH (I'm querying on the first one). I promise to post soon!
Nice suspense and the pictures are superbly complimentary.
Thanks, Bernita!
Post a Comment