Slipping from tree to bush, I walked as softly as my boots allowed. It’s funny how weird things looked at night, how lonely and hushed, as if the familiar landscape were an alien planet with no life on it except mine.
I stopped in the shadow of the farmhouse and listened; no sound of pickax or shovel disturbed the night. Even the animal and insect noises of the surrounding woods seemed stilled.
Looking behind me, I scurried through the yard until I reached the stone wall dividing the yard from the barnyard. Sinking down behind the wall, I peered over the top at the rounded knoll, beneath which rested secrets Mom and I did not want shared with anybody. It seemed like eons ago that my mother and I had fled from that cellar with its contents, barely escaping with our lives. I swallowed the bitter, metallic taste which rose in my mouth at these thoughts.
I bent close to the ground and darted toward the filled-in cellar, flicking on the flashlight and beaming it downward. My toe caught in a freshly dug ditch. I stumbled and staggered to my knees as I heard a slight movement behind me. Pain ricocheted off my head and spread down my neck and shoulders. A thousand lights exploded behind my eyelids. Darkness deeper than any night closed around me.
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