A Worn Path

April 19, 2011
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“Bye mama!” Cindy yelled as she road her sparkling new bike towards the woods. The wind zipped thru the 8 year old girls long curly blond locks of hair like bumblebees flying from flower to flower. “Only one time down the path now, ya hear?” And absolutely no talking to strangers,” a constant reminder from mama, repetition in Cindy’s mind.

The trail is now quiet. There is a faint smell of birch coming from a nearby fire. A man slowly wanders down the path. He’s still intoxicated from the 4 beers and numerous shots of whiskey he took previous to his adventure. “I’m a bad man,” he mumbles. ”I’m a bad man.”

Mama stares out the window while she washes the dishes. “It been over an hour now,” mama exclaims. “dinners getting’ cold!” Papa replies, “Ah, you know little Cindy honey. She’s gonna’ be just fine.”

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