Copyright 2012 Christine McDonnell
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I opened my eyes to complete darkness. The cries of children echoed softly in my ears, a far enough distance away from me. I felt the blindfold across my eyes, not letting any light penetrate it. When I tried to move my hands, I quickly discovered them tightly bound with rough rope.
The memories came flooding back, all starting with the trouble that morning with Michael…
“Michael…” I hissed sternly, “Where did you learn about them?”
My little brother, now six years old, glanced naïvely up at me through his dark brown bangs before his eyes darted back to his sketchpad, which I was currently gripping tightly.
“ ‘Bout what, Brother?” he asked me innocently.