The cottage sat quiet, but Sheri knew he was there. Father. The word alone brought fear to her heart.
Not much longer though. According to the witch, the poultice would either stop him from treating her like a wife or would kill him. Frankly, she was fine with the latter. He stopped being a father once her mother died and was forced into filling her shoes. From cooking to bedding, and a few punches, Sheri had endured it all for years.
He was evil to the core.
But just a little poultice in his coffee, and she would be free…
This is part four of small unplanned series.
To see part three, click here. To start with part one, click here.
(Parts one, two and four are only 100 words snippets for Friday Fictioneers. Part three is a bit longer [about 600 words] and was for Ronovan Writes Friday Fiction.)
And now, a sequel to last week’s Friday Fictioneers…
She could feel someone standing behind her. She didn’t move but eyed the doorway. Instantly, she recognized the aged voice. Yet, she had no idea who it was.
“Are you here to finally accept your path?”
Sheri slowly turned to see a decrepit old woman. “Um…I’m sorry. I just love old buildings. I thought it was abandoned,” said Sheri turning to leave.
“Like you have abandoned your gift? Denied your mark?”
Sheri stopped, her birthmark burning.
“You have a gift child. Stop ignoring it.”
“I knew the fence would only entice you. You cannot fight who you are child.”
For Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneers.
PHOTO PROMPT © Madison Woods
Creeping around old houses was an addiction, a mysterious adventure that got Sheri’s mind racing.
Who lived here and why did they leave?
Endless questions poured through her mind, especially when she found things. What reasons made people abandon stuff, like this intricate book? Who would leave such a treasure? And why was it not dusty?
Sheri gently flipped through the pages–pages that seemed like inlaid origami. She traced the delicate designs. It felt like the book was pulsing under her fingertips.
Or was that her heart pounding…
She froze when she felt the cold breath on her neck.
For added fun, I add a few abandoned house pictures I took recently.
The book picture though is the PHOTO PROMPT © Kent Bonham
UPDATE: Sequel to this: Behind the Fence, Destiny Calls.
I stood looking out over the river, “It’s been a good, long life with no regrets.”
I hated to leave my little piece of heaven. The stairs were too much though. My 115-year-old body and mind were tired. It might be nice to have daily help and company, and my granddaughter adored this place. I was content to leave it in her capable hands just as my grandmother had done for me. Generations of our kind had lived here. We thrived from this river, the source of our powers.
But my granddaughter was ready to lead, and I retire.
We traveled for months, fleeing enemies. Strangers who wanted us dead because of our religion. Ironic how love in God was dangerous, especially when there was only one.
But their narrow minds could not see that we were all just siblings. No. All they saw were our differences and that scared them. So, they wanted us dead.
We heard this city was accepting of our kind, open to different faiths. But as we stood at their gate, we paused. Were these strangers any better than those who chased us?
We walked forward, hands raised, with faith in God path.
PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot
Add your 100-word story by clicking on the inlinkz below.