Story Hour

Fishing for Pennies

Part 3:

Loe’s breathing was slow. Level. Even. She aligned herself directly behind the tree. It was as if it was just wide enough to shield her small form; like it was fit only for her protection. Peering out, she thought the coarse light was casting shadows. Even then, she knew they were not shadows. From this vantage point she could see each subtle detail in slow motion; a tattered quilt, the half-eaten peach, two sets of bare feet. Each new revelation exploded before her blowing to bits the well-worn picture in her thoughts. Her eyes burned, but she dared not close them. If she blinked, she might wipe away a part of this scene and it had to stay firmly planted at the forefront of her mind forever.
Those eyes, seeing every single movement, had not yet caught up with her heart, which was now racing toward panic and nothingness. She heard a piece of overripe fruit click off its vine and fall purposefully toward the damp ground and when it hit vibrated like a pulled grenade. Startled, she drew in a sharp breath disrupting her calculated pattern. Frozen, Loe concentrated only on the bruising peach. Stay hidden, out of consciousness; only then would she buy herself time to think. A glance flung toward her and she had no doubt they had seen her. Then just as quickly the girl turned back around and into his arms.
It was at this exact moment that Loe felt it. The precise moment her world shifted downward toward something dimly fatalistic. It sucked in her breath and stole her undivided attention; the flutter of a butterfly wing.