Friday Flash Fiction
She tipped up the bottle and drank every drip that would fall. Red, warm and fruity, was it a treat or a hindrance? She wasn’t sure. The make shift roof shielded her from the rain and the pinned up sheets blocked a little of the draft.
Lucy hadn’t eaten much since she’d arrived and was feeling weaker every day. She mapped out the way she had come on paper napkins, so that when it was time, she could find her way home. Although she knew now, was not the right time to leave and she wasn't so sure that home was, were home used to be.
She faced the forest and thought of her family, which would no longer be in their home. Lucy thought of her friends who she'd no longer be able to see. She thought of her cat that was killed in the ambush.
Lucy came from a life that was normal, filled with work and activities and family and fun. But then she turned to the dark side, while immersed in the adventure, she met Phil. Phil took her deeper into the pit of obscurity.
Last Thursday night, Phil knew they were destined for ruin, and drew a mud map for her, showing her how to get to the shelter. On her journey, the map was saturated and became wet pulp.
She thought of his face, as the rain quietened. Phil looked bitter and tormented as he lay bleeding on the floor. Lucy thought about what she could have done to stop them, but then remembered how she had no strength left to fight, instead she fled.
This was the seventh night she lay her head down at the shelter. Her body jerked as she fitfully began to sleep. She woke many times with animal noises and rustling bushes. And then, she was woken with the crunching of human foot steps.