The Eyes Of A Fetch (Excerpt 417) Warped



“Marnie, I want to help you, please don’t do this.” Says Lyla as she discreetly picks at the rope binding her hands.

“Nope, not going to happen. You are wrong again, Lyla. Oh my, this is just not your night, is it?” Marnie strikes the match and quickly touches it to the paper and the fire takes.

Flames shoot up between the strips of wood, popping and crackling as the paper burns away. Lyla now becomes a little more desperate as she works at freeing herself but she cannot get the ropes loose enough to break away from the pipe. She watches as Marnie tips the stained glass lantern over dumping the fluid out around the door and windows. The strong scent of kerosene burns at her nose as Marnie sets it down on the floor next to Lyla’s feet.

In a quick flash Lyla sees herself holding the lantern…

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About Jonathan Caswell

Mr. Caswell has been composing poetry at least since High School. He has been on WORD PRESS for ten years and contributes to two other blogs beside this one. This blog has a Christian emphasis but all bloggers are welcome. Mr. Caswell chooses to---with permission--re[post material of interest

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