บท 39: Chapter 39: Henry Dawson

Mary-Allison Flagstone

Henry straightens out his hunch, he’s spritelier than he leads on—He still looks old though. Moonlight beams from the clouds momentarily for me to take in my surroundings. The grass is dead, drained of any color. A large oak tree withers, almost as much as Henry. Slick rocks carve out enough land for a waterfall, which I guess, used to splash into what must have been a lake at some point. Now it’s just a ditch full of dust and dirt.

Silver light keeps a spotlight on us. It’s the longest any light has penetrated the clouds since I arrived. ‘Christopher, where are you?’ He will find me, he promised, and he always keeps his promises. But I wish he would hurry.

“Hanson doesn’t know of this place, we’ll be safe here, well, for a while anyways.”

Adam finds a spot of dirt and sits with his legs extended. Henry sits on a rock. We’re all exhausted. Next to Henry, I cross my legs and sit. The leftover grass pricks like pins.