Samuel
I pray to blades of grass
To find forgiveness in the weeds
To find forgiveness in the weeds
Sam had stared at the book he had stolen for Wessex for a day or so after arriving home. He didn't like having it around. Looking at him reminded him he had stolen something from the Fae, but thinking about taking it to Wessex filled him with another kind of dread entirely.
But it had to be done, and the sooner he did it, the sooner it would be over. Not knowing where she lived or usually hung around, he had taken a note to the last place he had seen her. In the woodland, next to the shrine (not on the same tree, as that felt disrespectful) he pinned a note which simply said:
Wessex,
If you see this, meet me here at midnight on Thursday night.
I have the book you asked for.
Samuel.
After five minutes of almost ripping it down he had gone home, only to return at the right time, holding the book tight in his fingers and standing awkwardly next to the shrine, wishing The Voice could just give it for him; but he couldn't use the Goddess as a postal service.
