The Water Bearer

Rising so fast that his knees cracked like splitting wood, he dashed up the front steps, stuffing the yellow flower on its broken stem into his pocket. The front door was open, and he slid across the polished tile in his wet boots.

“Grace! What’s the matter?”

She appeared at the top of the steps, ashen, her mouth agape and forming silent words.

“Are you OK?” he asked, rushing up the stairs toward her.

His feet squished on the staircase rug; it was soaked.

Alarmed, he pushed past her, turned toward Dr. Wilson’s room. The carpeting became wetter as he approached the door, which was half open.

About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)