A choreography of Harry, crew and others fled to the side of the beach, and watched as their ship disappeared into a mist of misery. It was as if nothing had ever existed beyond that point.

We all looked to my mother then, not even sure of what happened. She took my hand, and Harry’s and led us back through the woodland. It was like there were many eyes focussed on us. They shone from the trees, where a shadow moved through the branches like a ghost.

She didn’t look left or right, but beckoned everyone to follow her. I expected to go back to our farm, but she went left, and like sheep to a dog, we let her lead us to our destination.

It wasn’t how I remembered it, the village by our home transformed into a beautiful landscape, littered with tiny coloured buildings. Each a different hue to the rest. The sky was a deep crimson, and the sun silently drifted to be greeted by the moon.

We were safe, in our mum’s capable heart.

Published by writerravenclaw

I am a fifty something mother of two grown up children, and one beautiful grandchild. I have been married for nearly thirty-four years. My first book was published ten years ago. I wrote my book Sticks and Stones because of my experience of being bullied at school.

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