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Antiochian Orthodox Christian
Music major
Former homeschooler
Voice teacher
The world, the flesh, and father smith

Message to Readers

Go read part I and II! There will be one more part. I would REALLY appreciate some feedback! If you had to do an analysis of this, what would you say?

The Red Fence: part III

December 5, 2019


    Sometimes the roars and howls were too much. They would grow and swell until there was a sudden ring of silence, so distinct it was almost its own sound. But Sam held onto her breath because it often came back, rising and falling, and rising and falling, the last one always sounding worse than the first. Sam couldn’t sleep on nights like these, and if there’s one thing she couldn’t stand, it was lying in bed doing nothing.
    So she slipped out of her covers and crawled over little Lizzy. And she held up her school trash bag so high that her arms ached so as not to touch and stir little Lizzy. And she laid it and other spare clothes from the floor in place of her body in the shape of a wormlike lump. And she pulled the covers up and over her pillow. Then she grabbed the room’s lantern, unlocked the window, and pushed it up as far as her short arms could, not worrying about the sound; the little ones learned to sleep through just about anything.
    She found the path behind the house and swiftly stole away, afraid her light would draw attention. But once the woods thickened, all she could hear was a lullaby the wind sang to the trees who snored in low and high levels of grumbles and creaks. It never scared her. Even though Miss Ricker had read her class many stories about night and forests and creatures. But Miss Ricker had also read them a poem—by Sam’s request—about a beautiful lady. She forgot the title, but she knew the author was a Lord and he compared the graceful, soft lady to the night, and that was the only story Sam ever remembered when she followed the moon.

    The path was a little hard to follow; this time of year the trees shed a coat of leaves daily, ensconcing the forest floor late at night, but she found her way to a dying oak tree with a hole at its base. Removing the branches and tarp that had banned unwelcome squirrels and rabbits, she reached in and grabbed a spare can and brush. The red fence had been neglected of late. The color had faded a little and the wind smothered it with a thick layer of dust and dirt. The edges had begun to curl and crack again but don’t worry, she thought, I’ll fix you right up. And fix up she did. No one knew how to honor and adore that fence better than Sam Leery. Each stroke was a rich deep red of affection and each dip was another soothing word. Tomorrow it would call out to each passerby to admire its bright color, but tonight it glimmered and shined in the wake of the moon like a buried piece of treasure at the bottom of a sunken ship that caught your eye with a single sparkle. Sam laid on the forest floor to catch all the overlooked cracks and holes. As the sky began to reflect the fence’s rosy hue and Sam pressed the lid back on the can, she smiled at her masterpiece. See, she thought, piece a cake.

    Nights like these were not uncommon. She often had to make up frightening nightmares to explain her sleepy state to Mama and Miss Ricker in the morning. She never had to explain herself to Daddy though because Daddy was never home after nights like those. 


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  • December 5, 2019 - 7:38am (Now Viewing)

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