Sunday, 27 January 2013

A Start

For some reason I feel like writing fiction. Why not?

The landscape was dry, dull. The travellers were weary and tired. They had travelled on foot for days and days, miles and miles, far far away from the village which had chased them out.

"I'm hungry," the youngest said. "I'm tired. Why can't we go back, Mummy? Where are we going?"

"It won't be long," the kindly voice replied. "It won't be long, I promise,"

"But long until what?"

The woman did not say anything.

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