Dead Man Walking

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An extract from a second novel in a series that has not yet been aired in full. Taken from my blog, high is also a new venture and yet to fully be as I'd like. Feedback on anything would be welcome. https://fictionisfood.wordpress.com

 

 

                       

 

Her head was on his shoulder. He could feel it growing damp and knew she was weeping. Something inside his mind was screaming get her away from here; she has the power of foresight. He shook it off, but the pounding in his chest would not let go. Instincts were generating fear. It was now dark. Time had flowed fast and the sun was beyond the horizon leaving an orange glow in the wisps of cloud that drifted beyond the river.

“We should go.”

They were now side by side, holding hands and watching a growing mist begin to stir on the river. Behind another fog was creeping unseen along the path. With it came disquiet. Insects fled or died, birds were absent and animals beyond reach having sensed things were wrong some time ago. Only the owls watched on.

“Wayland.”

The river looked creepy in the after light with mist overlapping the banks and spilling into the fields. From up on the path it looked like ground clouds moving ever onwards.

“Yes?”

Behind the fog continued to flow. It was more than just the daisy that curled and expired underfoot. Ghost lights flickered in the forest as the temperature plummeted.

“It’s too late. Don’t ever forget me…”

He turned to look at her

“Wha…”

Was all that came forth before something unseen heaved him off the path and sent him crashing down the bank toward the flood field. Tumbling he heard an ungodly scream and knew this to be Tara. Around him the dark landscape turned and wheeled until his head found a tree stump and the dark became black.

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