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Weekly Contest #210
The wind whipped through the cornstalks creating a melancholy chorus of fall music. Samantha curled her small, seven-year-old frame and buried her face into her jeans. He would find her. He always did. “Samantha.” Tommy’s voice cut through the bitter fall air. Samantha’s body tightened deeper into a ball, hoping her brown jacket would blend with the drying stalks. Nothing could be done about the bright red cap her mother insisted Samantha wear after their last hide-and-seek game ended with a frantic search party. Her family had combed the ...
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