The front door shut with a soft click, and Dana Petersen didn’t even turn from stirring the vegetables, “Take your shoes off Ali.” She heard the thud of her daughter’s shoes hitting the mat, and then the thud of someone else’s following suit. The sound made Dana put down the spoon, and move to the open doorway. Catalina froze in mid step, her hand wrapped tightly around the hand of a little boy that Dana had never seen before. He was shivering, and clearly hadn’t eaten well in a while, as even under the mud streaking his face she could see how gaunt he was. “Who are you?” she asked, bending so that she could make eye contact with the little boy.
“He’s my friend,” Catalina piped up before he could speak.
“Harvey Fyre,” the little boy mumbled in a low voice, his gaze fixed on his hand, that was linked with Catalina’s.
“Where are your mum and dad?”
“Mummy, that’s not a nice thing to ask,” Catalina admonished, as she squeezed Harvey’s hand comfortingly “It makes him sad,”
Dana straightened up, used enough to Catalina’s ability to tell how others were feeling to make no comment, “Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. Why don’t you take Harvey upstairs, so both of you can clean up a little?”
“Okay.” Catalina tightened her grasp on Harvey’s hand, as the two children went upstairs. The little boy was propelled along by her daughter in the wake of Catalina’s habitual energetic stride.
Copyright Emily Morris 2018
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hgolightly1982
I'm a thirty something woman who lives in the north of England. I have been a writer for as long as I can remember, creating stories both written and verbal since childhood. While studying at Edge Hill College, I got several poems published by a small publisher in the USA, and in Europe. I have been part of several writing groups, and done quite a few courses in a attempt to hone my writing skills further. I love reading different genres of fiction, knowing that the best way to develop my own writing, and my vocabulary is by exposing myself to the different ways that other people choose to describe things.
The most recent writing course that I've been part of, run by a published author, included a exercise in which we were challenged to read things that we would never usually even look at.
It inspired me to take up a challenge. Namely to attempt to read at least one book by every author which is stocked in my local library. I soon realised that I was being far too ambitious, especially given the fact that every library rotates their stock too often for me to keep track.
I've decided to instead attempt to read a book every day, starting with a author whose surname begins with A, and ending with a author whose surname begins with Z. It doesn't matter what the topic of the book is, or if it's fiction or non fiction, everything is useful for me at the minute.
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