A recorder of stories in all senses. By day a photographer / designer and in the inbetween hours, I ...
From his hiding spot in the Angry Tree, Munjin peered through the forest for any sign of his hunters. His breathing had finally calmed down, but he was still hot and sweaty from running.
Every crinkling leaf jolted his spine. Normally, Munjin felt safe at the Tree. If only it hadn’t been Silas that was hunting him. Munjin’s imagination kept throwing up horrible scenes of what would happen if the older boy found him.
Crack!
That was not his imagination. That. . .
From his hiding spot in the Angry Tree, Munjin peered through the forest for any sign of his hunters. His breathing had finally calmed down, but he was still hot and sweaty from running.
Every crinkling leaf jolted his spine. Normally, Munjin felt safe at the Tree. If only it hadn’t been Silas that was hunting him. Munjin’s imagination kept throwing up horrible scenes of what would happen if the older boy found him.
Crack!
That was not his imagination. That. . .
It was early September in the town of Hillsbury. Labor Day weekend, the final long weekend before school returned and the summer tourists departed for the year, was the busiest for the town. Hillsbury was cottage country; families would travel upwards of ten hours to stay in their wood cabins, or the luxurious campsites that had recently been upgraded to provide up to fifteen sites with electricity and new picnic tables to surround the pits used for campfires, for the summer months.
It . . .
It was early September in the town of Hillsbury. Labor Day weekend, the final long weekend before school returned and the summer tourists departed for the year, was the busiest for the town. Hillsbury was cottage country; families would travel upwards of ten hours to stay in their wood cabins, or the luxurious campsites that had recently been upgraded to provide up to fifteen sites with electricity and new picnic tables to surround the pits used for campfires, for the summer months.
It . . .
XII
The five of them didn’t bother lighting torches, the sky had cleared to patchy clouds which scuttled quickly past the two partially full moons. The going wasn’t as bad as they had expected. The Pass was still used by fast riders during the day and a few adventurous wagon trains that thought they could make the pass before the sun set. The first half hour was quiet and still with an owl somewhere overhead calling out.
Then they saw it.They all froze still and a. . .