Photo by: Natashia Goertzen, Natashia’s Photos
Reunited © 2018 R.D. Girvan
She twisted her ankle, stumbled off the path and fell upon the fence, jack-knifed over the pickets. The fence, its posts rotted from too much rain and not enough maintenance, wobbled beneath her weight, wowing back and forth.
Alarmed, Pete watched from his kitchen window. Sarah stood up and steadied herself, pale fingers gleaming white against weathered wood. He waited for blood to bloom on her ripped white shirt. He could see the torn fabric, even from that distance, and he held his breath, hoping she could make it into the house by herself. He couldn’t risk touching her.
Hello, Gang of Glorious Readers (both of you! haha), Rhea here.
I am entering stories into contests, some of which do not allow any publication of any kind, even on a baby blog like mine. So if you would like to read the entire story, send me your email address and I will forward it to you.
Best always, RDG