I flicked the net curtains aside. There
could be no doubt. Uncle Timothy was
slouching heavily at the door. My heart
did sickening somersaults. We’d have
to play dead, like no one was at home.
I turned and signalled William. I placed
a finger to my lips. He understood. There
was a second rap at the door, only louder,
more determined, this time. I prayed
Uncle wouldn’t shake the door, because
the deadlock was suspect. I was barely
breathing now. My heart raced crazily.
Cold sweat trickled down my forehead.
I clearly heard Uncle’s heels grate on
the doorstep, as he turned, and departed.
My shoulders shook uncontrollably.
Tears trickled from my eyes. This was
abject fear I felt.

Author: Robert James Berry

Poet & Novelist

204 thoughts on “Net”

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