After a lamentable absence, a return to writing, and I’ll start with a #storycontinues roundup from the end of 2011. The following was tweeted, but never found its way here.
That oversight is now corrected.
Confused? Click on the #storycontinues link above to read the story from its beginning. Story tweets will resume 23 April 2012.
Nothing moved that she could see, but then she couldn’t see all that much in the dark. What had seemed somewhat light, if shadowy, from the stairs was darker at ground level. The light from the parlor didn’t reach all the way to the table and the moonlight from the glass windows flanking the front door was weaker than expected for a full moon night.
She would have to rely on her ears, not her eyes, before making the next move.
There were no footsteps, no voices any closer than they had been. Had her sneeze really gone unheard?
It appeared so. To be safe though, she ducked back under the table and counted to three hundred three more times. This had been close, too close. It was getting harder and harder to sneak about, but there was no time to worry. She had to go, now, while she safely could, but she had to do so carefully.
When all was silent she slipped out from under the table, wincing at the sound of her bare feet on the tile.
“Next time, slippers,” she half-whispered to herself, wincing, again, at the sound of her voice.
She really was doing terribly tonight, but then this detour was unplanned. Not that it should matter, she told herself ruthlessly. She and the boys had planned for things like this — acted out how to get away, where to hide, how long to count, everything — and here she almost got caught.