Run, Sinner

daylight environment forest green

The dogs barked. They were getting closer.

“Dear God, please save me.” She clutched a small rock tied to a thong and prayed they not sniff her out. She’d stolen a crust of day old bread for her kid brother, but that was illegal. Draconian laws still demanded her hands be amputated for thievery.

She pulled herself further underneath the poplar’s roots. The dogs’ feet splashed in the creek as they sniffed and snorted.

“Hoh!” a man’s voice called. The dogs looked up and ran back to him, the hunt called off.

She waited until they left, then ran for the next county.

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This was written for Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt #132, Draconian.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

10 thoughts on “Run, Sinner

    • H.R.R. Gorman says:

      Well, maybe she hoped it wouldn’t be noticed?

      Once growing up, our house was broken into, but we couldn’t figure out what they’d taken for WEEKS. Then, suddenly, my dad couldn’t find quarters in his change plate, and my mom realized they’d taken the plate – change and all – and replaced it with an empty bowl from a different shelf. Because my dad was crazy and never emptied his change plate, we estimated it was about $50 (about $107 New Zealand dollars today). So that was sad for us, but it’s funny now.

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