She closes her eyes, trying to erase the memories of what just happened.
When she opens them, his aura is stronger, pulsating deep crimson now and he’s approaching her… again.
Concentrating fiercely, she summons the image of the old book… opens the pages…
“Any witnesses?” says the pathologist later, zipping the charred remains into the body-bag.
“Only that kid there, and she’s a retard,” says the cop.
The pathologist winces, embarrassed. “You don’t mince words do you, Bud?”
“Ok… for the bleeding hearts brigade, I’ll rephrase it. She’s hardly likely to set the world on fire, is she?”
Back on the boat in France, and after one lovely warm sunny day, we’ve had twelve hours of incessant downpour. With more rain forecast, and the river already rising, the only place to be is on our boat. Thanks to la capitaine, Rochelle, for continuing to navigate the Friday Fictioneers ship with her usual aplomb. 🙂