February 10, 2009
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Chenaniah woke with a sharp gasp, a tight knot in his chest. It was so hard to breathe…
The memories began to flood his head. Greeting (or attempting to greet) Lemon and her friends… and then running. Running for dear life. From what? A plaguish memory? Oh, Chenaniah, you pathetic stag…
But the memory had never been so clear until now. It was as if he was there again. A fawn. A screaming, bleating, unheard fawn. Why now? Why was it coming back so clearly now?
Some flowers hovered above Chen’s head. He then realized was still hiding beneath the tall grass. He breathed a long, sobbing sigh. His chest was still tight. As if he was too nervous about something…
He stood wearily to his feet, and glanced nervously around.
OH GODS, THE POND.