Let us not waste any more time and rejoin our heroine on the dusky twilight trail in 1890, just outside outside of Gasthof Village, Indiana . . .
Carefully, she tucked the taxing strings into the nape of her
hand-hewn dress. I could just take my
covering off and stow it in my apron, Katie thought.
Guilt at simply
having the thought niggled in her stomach. Even though she was well away from
the watchful eyes of her Amish village, it still didn’t feel right to take the
white gauzy prayer covering off completely. She gave it a pat as another of
what was most likely her mother’s shrieks met her ears. “God, please hear my
prayer –”
As quickly as it gusted, the breeze
died off, leaving Katie alone in a vast and eerie calm. The yip of a coyote
replaced the melancholy laments of her mother, now lost without the breeze to
carry them. Tune in next week for eight more sentences from Old Amarillo (Amish Journeys #1). For now, feel free to pop back over to visit the other Weekend Writing Warriors and pay homage to their eight sentence contributions to the writing world :-)
You've really captured the sense of loss mingled with excitement at something new. Great snippet!
ReplyDeleteThank you Christina! I love this story and hope you do too <3
DeleteNice inner conflict. The end leaves us with an expectation.
ReplyDeleteThanks Ms. Blaze!! <3
DeleteSuch an interesting story, like how she realizes she can change some things but doesn't quite do it...yet. Great snippet.
ReplyDeleteThank you Veronica!! I always look forward to your stopping by <3
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