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| Mrs. Spafford |
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| Mr. Spafford |
As soon as we opened our room door, I knew something was
wrong. It was clearly written on Mr. Spafford’s thin and drawn face. Standing
by the window, the sun cast a harsh shadow making him appear much older than
really he was.
Mrs.
Spafford was seated in a chair, her head resting on her dainty fist.
“Why don’t
you go to your bedroom, eh?” I suggested to the children, who didn’t notice
their parent’s odd mood.
When the
children had left through the adjoining door, I turned and gazed at the couple,
waiting for them to say something. But nothing came, and they remained in their
trance.
“Is something
wrong?” The words seemed so loud in the mute and slightly dark room, and only
the children’s laughter next door could be heard. Mrs. Spafford whisked away a
strand of brown hair on her forehead.
“Mr.
McGrievers has passed away,” came the answer.
***
Here's another peek:
BOOM!
I screamed
and flew up. The cabin was pitch black, except a thin, flickering light coming
from under the door.
“Emma!” Maggie
cried. “What’s going on?”
She and
Bessie clung to my arms and wouldn’t let me get out of the bed.
“I don’t
know yet, darlings. Here, let me out. No, stop crying. I’m not leaving,” I
said, in a voice as calm as I could muster.
I climbed
out of bed and staggered sleepily to the porthole, despite the constant shaking
and tossing of the boat.
I gasped in
horror and stumbled backwards.
“We’ve been
hit!” I shrieked, forgetting two little eyes were watching my every move.
The bow of
a large vessel was rammed into the side of the Ville du Havre. Amidst the heavy
fog, I could see the sailors of this foreign ship racing here and there,
clanging bells and pulling on ropes.
I flew to
the wardrobe and pulled out our coats.
“Put them
on.”
“But-“
“Put them
on!” I snapped.
Later,
Kathryn (aka Chatty Kathy)
P.S. This is my 200th post!
P.S. This is my 200th post!
