Mr Sanders was a tall man with scruffy brown hair and piercing blue eyes. He wore a pair of baggy trousers and a shirt that was untucked on one side. He was the janitor and he was very proud of his job. He would try to get you into trouble for any reason and it would usually work. He was a very intimidating person.
"Stop right there!" he boomed.
"Where do you think you're going, young lady?"
Abigail looked up at the tall man and quickly thought up an excuse.
"I, I - " she stammered.
Mr Sanders peered down at her.
"I left my jacket outside" she whispered meekly.
"Speak up child!"
Mr Sanders voice caused a flock if nesting birds to take off in fright, leaving the evening silent.
"I left my jacket outside." she said a little louder.
"Is that so?"
Abigail merely nodded.
"Well then what are you doing standing here! Run and fetch it!"
Abigail tore off towards the woods round the back of the orphanage.
She stopped. Everything was different in the forest. Her footsteps were muffled rather than the ringing echo on concrete. She was engulfed in shadow and the temperature had dropped considerably. However, Abigail took none of this in for she only had one thing on her mind. She ran and ran until she was out of breath. She came to the clearing.
There was the wishing well.
YOU ARE READING
Wishing for the Dead
RandomWhen someone you love has died you're always wishing for them back even though you know that it isn't possible. Although, sometimes, maybe they do but not always in the ways that you might expect.
