Mitchell's Mustard Blog

January 7, 2015

Little teaser of the children’s book I’m working on . . . The B.B.B

Filed under: My Work — Tags: , , , , , , , , — mitchellsmustard @ 2:20 pm

One hundred meters from the carriage, behind a tree, his heavy breathing couldn’t be masked. Panic set in, his positive thoughts of escape became sporadic as he watched five men and a woman step from the carriage, one man was pointing as they all starred in his direction. Slowly, he slid his body down the trunk of the tree that shaded him from a future of incarceration. Making as little noise possible as he made his way down to his hands and knees, he knew who these people were, he’d heard the stories, the tales of the Sheriff and his men that tracked people like him, to bring them to justice for not following the laws. If caught, there was no way he could pass as a law abiding citizen, his white shirt was coloured with mud and stains from life, his trousers, once smart and formal, now marked and riddled with holes that interrupted the pinstripe pattern of a previous life, his unkempt long hair and dirty hands told the usual story of a member from the population of shadows, but the biggest problem, the beard that covered half his gaunt face, a beard that he was proud of, and if the tales where true, a beard that the Sheriff would despise and sentence for its removal. He crept forward a little, finding a hidden viewpoint, the four men were making their way towards him slowly, the woman was no where to be seen. He thought of his choices, if he stayed where he was, he would be caught soon enough, he could try and disguise himself in the undergrowth and hope that they would pass by with him unnoticed, the more he thought of this option, the more he realised how unlikely it would be for them to leave without him. The other option, and the most rational in his mind was to run, he knew this forest better than them, he knew the fallen trees and trip hazards like the back of his hand, the dips and holes in the flooring, the direction he would need to take to lose them in the wilderness, making sure he didn’t lead them in the direction he actually needed to take, he didn’t want to lead them to his home. He knew what he needed to do. Picking up a rock, he checked to see how close his hunters were, with great stealth, he through the rock in the opposite direction to which he was going to run, as the rock made contact with a tree, he watched the men all stare in that direction, the perfect distraction. He was just about to leap into action, to run as fast as he could, never looking back. He felt a heavy weight on his ankle, he turned, the first thing he noticed was her beauty, the forest seemed to smudge behind her, the second thing he noticed was the wooden cane she held against his neck as she stood on his ankle to stop him from moving.
“Over here, Sheriff. I’ve got him” Moore called out.


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