Abandoned Journal

The year is 1695. Of this, at least, I am sure.

Following the Newsmiths was a mistake. After abandoning our homes and trudging the dark woods through rain and storm, our group arrived in what was once a hunters’ camp. The bridge to Boston is down and we can go no further. Our flight to freedom was a fools’ errand.

The memory of our home in New Eden Town seems distant now. We had friends and neighbors. The schoolhouse rang with laughter, the meetinghouse had a minister who cared for us deeply. When we left with Thickskin’s band, the New Eden Town we’d built was no more.

I miss it deeply. Beth misses it too, though she hides it. We’re going back. Packing our things once more and going home.

To hell with whatever prowls the woods. God be with us.

I don’t think God was with them when they decided to turn around and go back to New Eden Town. I think something else was with them–or at least following them.

Can you imagine getting through the woods the first time around, then become so nostalgic for your home that you have to return to it through those same woods that then kill you.