It was the best summer that Valentins ever had. He and Deborah painted figurines and drafted plans for a complete haunted village. They played board games and watched dumb late-night movies. They went to the graveyard and played tag among the tombstones. One night they sat on the edge of Choral Beck, the stream that ran through the Cheating Growth, until the sky turned pink around the edges and Deborah said that she needed to hurry home.
“If I’m out after sunrise, I’m toast,” she exclaimed dramatically. “You’d probably better get home too. I wouldn’t want you to get grounded.”
Valentins scurried after Deborah as she ran swiftly and silently at astounding speed.
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2 comments:
Prodigal Moon sounds great, C.L. Love the premise. :)
I do not like snarky people that talk people down about seeing a ghost. Which is why I keep a middle ground. I do not know what you saw or didn't. I was there. It is interesting that you experience something and neat that it inspire you to write a story.
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