#writephoto – Mists

** This is in response to Sue Vincent’s Photo Prompt that you can find out about Here.

The mist lay across the valley like a shroud.  Although the sun was up, there was no warmth.  Its glow was weak, like the struggling vegetation it tried to illuminate.  The mists hid evil in it’s embrace.

My bare feet were wet from the dew laden grass as I crossed the field.  I must hurry.  I was taking a great risk at this time of day.  Once the sun gained its strength, they would come.

In my haste I slipped and fell, the pitiful apples I was able to collect for our nourishment went sprawling in front of me.  As quickly as I could, on my hands and knees, I swept the apples into the small wooden pail.

Looking behind me to be sure I was still alone, I rose and continued down the path.

I scurried to the foot of the hill.  Papa, saw me coming through a crack in the door and as I approached, he swung the door open for me.

“Hurry child!  Hurry!  They’re coming!”

The mists were thicker now.

I was barely inside when Papa slammed the heavy wooden door behind me.   I set my pail on the wooden table in the center of the room and went to the fire to warm myself.  My baby sister, Beth came and stood next to me.

Looking over the meager offering, Papa picked up one of the apples, turning it this way and that.  He looked at me and spat “Fool girl!  You risked your life for these?  They are pathetic and won’t see us through another day!”

“I know Papa.  But it was all I could find.  They’ve eaten everything else.”  I said.

There was a soft “CLUMP” sound against the door.  Papa’s eyes snapped in that direction.

“Quickly, quickly, into the cellar!”  He shooed me and my baby sister ahead of him as the sounds against the door turned into pounding and pushing.

Once inside the cellar, I lit the small oil lamp and curled myself into a ball on the pile of blankets next to Beth, hugging her close as I did so.

With a loud “clunk” Papa bolted the door with the heavy metal bar.

In the other part of the cabin, there was pounding on the outer door, louder and louder it came.

Papa, came and huddled in the corner with us as we heard the front door give way.  Then the growling and snarling began.

This started Beth crying and shaking.

Papa pulled us both tighter and said “Just close your eyes Beth.  Pretend it’s a dream.”

I looked into his long mournful face and with love he said “You too child, just close your eyes.”

Just then, the cellar door gave way.   I closed my eyes.

Copyright © 2017 Penny Wilson

About Penny Wilson Writes

I am a freelance writer that writes in several genres. I've had a successful blog with a growing and loyal following for more than 5 years. I've written articles for Counseling Directory .org, Introvert Dear .com, and WOW Women on Writing. My poetry has been published on Ariel Chart, a monthly online Journal and Spill Words Press. I'm currently working on my first novel. You can find more of my writings on my blog at: https://pennywilsonwrites.com/ and follow me on Twitter @pennywilson123.
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15 Responses to #writephoto – Mists

  1. Pingback: Photo prompt round-up – Mists – #writephoto | Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

  2. Iain Kelly says:

    Terrifying stuff Penny!

    Like

  3. Dark and exquisitely written. I was on the edge of my seat wondering what they were and whether or not they had gotten the mother. *shiver*

    Like

  4. Oh no, Penny, this is going to plague me now.

    Like

  5. WaltPage says:

    Wow! This is awesome!

    Like

  6. James says:

    Usually the monsters come out at night. I wonder what fiends were stalking this poor family by day. Well done though tragically ended.

    Like

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