He turned away and slipped between two of the buildings, old and grey. Down the side of one was a worn and softly swinging rope. Gripping it between his knees, he shuffled up, hissing when the rough skin on his wrists caught on the tough horsehair rope. After what seemed like an age, he scrambled into the hayloft of the barn.
In the corner was a scratchy sack stuffed with dusty hay, with a patchy quilt thrown over it. A few tattered books were stacked beside it. Slung on a nail by the trapdoor was an old letterman jacket, this one bearing the surname Ethan. The boy ignored all of that and made a beeline for the polished leather trunk taking up the floor space in the loft. Taking the centre spot on the trunk was another leather object- a journal with the letters G.E. engraved on the cover.
We can assume the E is for Ethan- but what does the G represent? Surely we'll find out.
He flipped open the cover and ran his finger across the scratchy marks faded into the thick parchment of the journal. His lips moved as he did, surely reading the words written long ago.
The light was fading fast from the eaves of the sky, and soon the boy was straining to make out the words on the page. I reckon he could have pored over that book all night, had the sun and moon not interfered.
Scrabbling around in the dark, he kicked his scruffy shoes off and flopped onto the sack. He shivered. The lack of food and warm shelter might eventually do him harm but for now, he was oblivious to anything, and he drifted in and out of consciousness in a restless sleep.
Faintly screeching in the distance were seven magpies.
YOU ARE READING
Sulphur and Folded Clothes
Science FictionA young boy with anger issues gets into pickles when people he's argued with disappear. Manipulation and mind wracking, the world this young boy is thrust into is not his dream home.
