FF – 5th September 2014
This week the prompt was to include a baby with the following picture.
For some crazy reason I decided to write two.
“We have to go,” I begged. Our baby son cried in my arms.
“I’m not leaving our daughter out here,” she said as she stepped away from me.
I pointed towards the hills. “The mist is closing in. We won’t have time to make it back to the village. If she’s in that then she’s already gone!”
Her lip quivered and tears ran down her face. I looked around and saw a cliet a couple of hundred yards away. “Let’s get inside and wait out the mist. They can’t get us in there.”
Her heart struggled but her mind agreed. We started to run to safety and that was when we heard a scream from far behind us.
Before I could stop her she’d turned and ran back towards the mist, towards her death.
Helpless, I scurried to the cliet. Seconds later I heard her scream too.
I sat inside and held my son tight.
He heard it again.
No doubt it was a baby, its wincing wail escaping the stone hovel and echoing across the moors.
From his mount, the rider saw clear to all points of the compass. Alone, ‘cept his horse and the source of those cries, he closed cautiously on the hovel, experience moving his hand to the hilt of his sword. The distressed infant resided inside.
As a father himself the rider was unable to ignore the cries and abandon the infant in this desolate landscape. Mission be damned, he couldn’t ride on by.
He dismounted and stepped up to the entrance. The darkness inside was eternal. The rider drew his blade and entered.
The crying stopped. The rider was dead before he could gasp.
The demon was fed.
It would be a while before the wailing would begin again.