#amwriting #sketchbook woods

My father always told me not to go into the woods on Spittal Hill, or the beast would get me. But, my father was gone and my mother didn't care. She was obsessed with the new bloke, and he didn't care either.

So there was no reason not to: so I did.

Or rather I didn't, I daren't. I stood by the 'Keep Out' sign as Martin picked his way through the barbed wire fence.

It still puzzles me why he turned to say goodbye before he slid into the ferns.

It was like he knew.

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