Posted in Stories

#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


Penny Wilson is a freelance writer who writes in several genres. She has written articles for WOW Women on Writing. Her poetry has been published in online journals, such as Ariel Chart, Spill Words Press and the Poppy Road Review. Penny is a member of the Austin Poetry Society. Her poetry has been featured in the publication America's Emerging Poets 2018 & 2019 by Z Publishing, Poets Quarterly and Dual Coast Magazine published by Prolific Press. You can find more of her writings on her blog at and follow her on Twitter @pennywilson123.

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