Zach's Cross by E.M.G Wixley

Author:E.M.G Wixley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: E.M.G Wixley
Published: 2017-04-26T00:00:00+00:00

EVE AWOKE TO THE LIGHT of a full moon and the chill air of the early hours blowing through the open door. Surprised that they’d slept the day away she grabbed the torch from the floor. Slowly she peeled her leaden body from the still sleeping Ruben and moved her aching muscles across the room to where she’d dumped her small backpack the night before. She pulled a cord and tugged out a pair of sloppy joggers. Hurriedly she removed her stiff jeans and sighed with relief. Still drowsy, she wandered into the hall and outside.

She stood marvelling over the elusive and enigmatic landscape. Under the eerie moonlight, the liquidity of the moor was both beautiful and disturbing changing minute by minute. The main points of references the trees in the valley and the towers of stone appeared less solid as the mist flowed over distorting and dissolving their defined shapes. Around the rocks streams like silver ribbons curled towards the unseen rivers, steam rose from the hazardous mires, and the shadowy forms of ponies emerged from behind Gorse bushes.

Eve sat on the swing half, noticing the whispering voices in the breeze and moaning coming from the direction of the house. Goosebumps broke out on her arms, and she rubbed them with her hands while feeling relieved that she was away from the stale air and grime of the house. Outside was clean and fresh and as she became more awake, she determined that in the morning she would obtain some water and at least scrub clean the downstairs rooms.

Bramble, who had grown extra protective over Eve, had instantly woken and followed her outside. Eve spent the hours before dawn swinging gently, listening to the night noises, an owl hooting, distant babbling water and watching the stars and clouds floating across the vast sky.

As the darkness eventually paled, Eve became aware of waves of melancholy and sickness, and when she thought about it, she realised she hadn’t felt well for about the last three months. There was a strange taste in her mouth, and her sense of smell seemed abnormally acute and sensitive. The more she thought about it, the more nauseous she became. Her gastric juices bubbled, and her spine bristled. I’m pregnant, she thought climbing off. Immediately she spewed all over the grass and once she’d recovered walked towards the house smiling to herself. She’d suspected for some time but had been afraid to admit it in case she miscarried.

Reluctantly with the torch in hand, she turned and went back into the hall and entered the dull room. Carefully she opened a door, which she’d spotted the previous night and thought might be a kitchen. The window was not boarded, and although small, the room was surprisingly standard with all the common objects you would expect to find except there was no washing machine or fridge.

Under the sink, she found a cobwebbed covered bottle of washing up liquid, a scrubbing brush with half the bristles missing, stiff rag and a bucket which she placed in the large square sink.

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