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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Sep, 2019
Submitted to Contest #7
My breath quickens, fogging up in front of me like a tiny ghost calling for attention. My feet on the sodden spring path splash mud on my exposed legs. I glance back, hoping to avoid seeing some spectral image coming out of the darkened shed I just exited. The shadows dance around me, swaying to a tune only they can hear. Ahead, I can see the light of the house winking through the dark trees; I wish that I didn’t have to pass through their limbs, creaking in the wind. They ...
What is it like, I wonder, to belong? These were the thoughts of Denny Clemline, the grimy, hungry ten-year-old. He was a boy of the streets, a grabber of money, and a snatcher of food. Denny had taken to wrapping his hand in a rag, at least then people couldn’t see the scars and puckered tissue; the missing finger...
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