MABEL
Mabel was still here too; just not capable of doing much else. She could hear Wessex over the thrum of every other weakened nuance, a dull whimper threatening to fill the void, glimpsed and grasping on the edges. Okay she uttered through her mind, listening for the echoes, trying not to sear over in waves of panic at the mention of Cordillera.
Why? Why there?
The hope dashed away feebly – she’d heard all manners of stories on such a land from when she was little and her god-fearing parents took to their scriptures. She couldn’t imagine there’d be anything good for her there.
I want to go home she offered instead, the echo of a past refrain, her hands catching over the wooden box, nails incapable of prying herself out.
Why? Why there?
The hope dashed away feebly – she’d heard all manners of stories on such a land from when she was little and her god-fearing parents took to their scriptures. She couldn’t imagine there’d be anything good for her there.
I want to go home she offered instead, the echo of a past refrain, her hands catching over the wooden box, nails incapable of prying herself out.
If you dig under my feet
You will find things that you don't want to see
You will find things that you don't want to see
