❝ Closed ✎ Starter ❞
Sammy didn’t remember leaving. In the blur of wandering through their garden - he’d forgotten having left the little farm so far behind. Past the gate, chasing a butterfly for a moment before following bird calls. Innocent meanderings of his young age. In all that he’d ... forgotten. But he knew it had been a while. Been long enough that the air was growing cold. And that he didn’t have his jumper. Goosebumps grew over the skin of bare feet, where little toes poked out from beneath the rolled up, worn cuffs of his trousers - with the belt hiked up to his middle, since Sammy still had a ways to be grown into them.
Sammy knew where he was. He wasn’t lost. It was the long stretch of road Jack always took to get to town. He’d been this way before... one time when he had run off in fear and anger for his older siblings. And like that time... Sammy was just alone. And he didn’t like that. He didn’t like to be alone. Not when Billy and Jane and Jack were back at the house. Or somewhere else by now. Maybe they’d gone out to the beach. That made him sad, made the lower lip quiver, the eyes start to swell in salted tears. Sammy needed to get home. He didn’t like being alone.
Standing almost in the middle of the road, nervous hands playing with the buttons of his shoulder. The growing tear from one eye brought a hand up to rub it, try and erase the sadness away - he didn’t see the car rumbling down the road, pulling up dust and gravel in its wake.
@dahliafemmes . monica.