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We sat on the cold, flagstone floor of the ruined domicile. At one time, it must have been an isolated farmstead, or possibly the hunting lodge of some Philadelphia gentleman. Almost a manor house in it's own right, though now just a shelter for wildlife.... If they only knew how wild.
Sarah huddled against me. Sublimating isn't always easy. It can be painful and draining, especially to someone 'new' like her. And the damp, spring rain only made things worse. Coppery stains played out across what remained of the plaster ceiling. Fat drops jumped down to die upon the floor.
We retreated to an inglenook. It was drier there. And the snug, little, hearth-side corner gave us a bit of security against any lurking foe. I waited for the SOUL PARADE to begin. But such things follow quite independent schedules and rarely appear on cue.
A fire would have been nice, but we had no stores and the bracken and twigs upon the forest floor were soaked through. There was a cedar chest in a storage room off the kitchen. It held a fine collection of thick, warm blankets, Bay Company trade goods from the look of them. Probably found their way down here via the Great Lakes. I'd discovered them long ago and now they gave us comfort. A plump, little rabbit silently hopped in from the wet. At first she didn't notice us, but then Sarah sighed and the sweet, warm receptacle of life froze, stiff as death, afraid to even breathe. I sent her a message. Not words, just emotion. Then I got up and 'nested' a particularly worn and soft blanket in a cozy, little spot under the stairs. After a few encouraging clucks, she understood and hopped in to rest. A few dozen heartbeats later, a friend came to join her. Could be she also had talents like mine?
I went back to Sarah and kissed her. She said - Is it starting? Are they coming? Can you feel them?......... No - I said. Soon, but not now....... So we gathered up the blankets and crawled down into the root cellar. It was safer there. Daylight would not find us. And except for the moldering bones of that long forgotten murder victim sleeping in the corner, we were quite alone. Even the spiders had left. Perhaps in anticipation of tortures yet to come?
And then I heard the sing-song voice of a child.......
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please hit the SHARE BUTTON. pass the story on to others. create a COMMENT that will resonate across the digital universe for all eternity. thank you for these precious heartbeats of your time.....
Sarah huddled against me. Sublimating isn't always easy. It can be painful and draining, especially to someone 'new' like her. And the damp, spring rain only made things worse. Coppery stains played out across what remained of the plaster ceiling. Fat drops jumped down to die upon the floor.
We retreated to an inglenook. It was drier there. And the snug, little, hearth-side corner gave us a bit of security against any lurking foe. I waited for the SOUL PARADE to begin. But such things follow quite independent schedules and rarely appear on cue.
A fire would have been nice, but we had no stores and the bracken and twigs upon the forest floor were soaked through. There was a cedar chest in a storage room off the kitchen. It held a fine collection of thick, warm blankets, Bay Company trade goods from the look of them. Probably found their way down here via the Great Lakes. I'd discovered them long ago and now they gave us comfort. A plump, little rabbit silently hopped in from the wet. At first she didn't notice us, but then Sarah sighed and the sweet, warm receptacle of life froze, stiff as death, afraid to even breathe. I sent her a message. Not words, just emotion. Then I got up and 'nested' a particularly worn and soft blanket in a cozy, little spot under the stairs. After a few encouraging clucks, she understood and hopped in to rest. A few dozen heartbeats later, a friend came to join her. Could be she also had talents like mine?
I went back to Sarah and kissed her. She said - Is it starting? Are they coming? Can you feel them?......... No - I said. Soon, but not now....... So we gathered up the blankets and crawled down into the root cellar. It was safer there. Daylight would not find us. And except for the moldering bones of that long forgotten murder victim sleeping in the corner, we were quite alone. Even the spiders had left. Perhaps in anticipation of tortures yet to come?
And then I heard the sing-song voice of a child.......
+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+
please hit the SHARE BUTTON. pass the story on to others. create a COMMENT that will resonate across the digital universe for all eternity. thank you for these precious heartbeats of your time.....
