“She ran away to mend her wounds, not knowing what awaited.”
This story was written for Froggy Crochet’s Writing Challenge. If you want to take part click on the link below:
She’d been told not to go into the woods, but Cathy hadn’t listened.
She was running away from the torment of her home life. What could the woods be full of compared to what she had left behind? What others feared, to her was just a world of possibilities.
She ran away to mend her wounds, not knowing what awaited.
There was a strange hum in the trees. She paused for breath and heard the snap of a twig behind her.
She turned quickly, but there was nothing there.
She made her way through the woods, following the humming sound. Gradually it grew louder until she heard it clearly; music coming from beyond a line of conifers.
As she pushed through the pine trees, she gaped at the sight that met her eyes.
More than a dozen painted wooden caravans were arranged in a circle around the secluded glade and a host of people in bright coloured clothing danced around a central fire, to the tune of several flutes.
The flutes stopped when they saw here. The people turned and some of the children screamed and ran into their homes on wheels.
An elderly man wearing a red scarf tied around his head and a knee long bottle-green coat over purple breeches came up to her.
“Are ye friend or foe, Lass?” he asked. She could barely understand, his strange archaic speech, his musical accent but she answered “Friend.”
The people stopped their fleeing. Several of the ladies smiled at her. They all wore fringed shawls around their shoulders in purples, yellows, of every colour.
One of the women, with flowing locks of red hair, came up and put her arm around her shoulders.
As the music began again, and the children re-emerged from their wagons, she felt an upwelling of emotion. They had welcomed her with open arms.
Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 05/February/2019