She pulled harder, not minding the sharp itch of snapping hair. They kept telling her it was there, she might as well see for herself.
Sighing, she turned to me.
"I think I've got it, but could you pull it out?"
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Sunday, April 24, 2011
The boy looked at the old man. Their shadows were stretched thin by the setting sun. "But sir," he said, "Your horse is dying. You have no provisions. There's nothing out there. Nobody goes that way anymore."
The old man looked down, pity in his eyes. "My dear boy," he said. "I am no Nobody."
And with that, he put his heels to his stumbling mount. The boy watched until his grandfather was lost to him in the gathering night.
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