This month’s topic is flash fiction, as you already know.
The book I’m reading: While We Were Watching Downtown Abbey by Wendy Wax. (A book I highly recommend.)
My first sentence: As a child Samantha Jackson Davis loved fairy tales as much as the next girl.
My image: To the Right.
Here goes nothin’…
Was that man watching her?
Evie’s fingers tightened around the cool orange she had just lifted from a street vendor’s basket. Spider legs of wariness crawled up her neck, a feeling that had become an old friend. She had thought…no, hoped, this time would be different.
Adrenaline shot through her, negating the desperation she’d felt for food, for something to fill her stomach and keep her going just moments ago. She turned around and strolled down the dirty, busy walkway of Covent Gardens. There was an alley just steps away she could slip into and—
“Miss, ye must pay fer that!” someone yelled after her.
Evie looked at the orange in her hand, and her heart jumped. “Here.” She handed it back. “I’m sorry.” She glanced behind her.
He was following her. He was watching her.
How far was it to her tiny little room? Could she run fast enough, hide from him long enough to gather her belongings? Stupid, stupid girl! She shook her head, hurried her gait. She’d grown too comfortable. Too confident that in the fog, dirt and crime-ridden streets of London, she would blend in with every other dark-haired, orphaned waif.
Who had they sent this time? It wasn’t a face she recognized, not a family member of the very esteemed, old-as-dirt noble family from whom she ran. But a pain settled inside of her heart just the same. If they had found her again, then it meant he had betrayed her.
Sending him–the boy she had loved her entire life–to force her return had been cruel.
And just like the family she abhorred.
She refused to marry their heir, their golden child, no matter how many people they sent after her. She would just have to run again.
The alleyway was just around the corner, and she hurried toward it. Two steps and she could—
A hand landed on her arm, skidded her to a stop. She fought the urge to scream and turned around instead.
Dread melted her bones into a puddle of fear at the cruel smile of the man in front of her.
“At last,” he drawled. His fingers curled like talons around her arm, a purposeful move intended to make her aware that he’d stolen her freedom. “We meet again.”