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    Found A Marble
    Found A Marble
    Found A Marble
    Ebook94 pages1 hour

    Found A Marble

    By Karen Fonville

    ()

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    About this ebook

    One Marble – dirty, encrusted with mud- hidden in the old woods.

     One Marble – dislodged when Pat Kincaid slides down the hill.

     One Marble – with the ability to tear the neighborhood apart.

     Pat Kincaid knows what that One Marble means to all her friends.

     She must find WHY that One Marble resurfaced now – before all

     hell breaks loose.

             Found A Marble – a chilling novella in the vein of Mary Higgins Clark's Where are the Children?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBluebird Haven Press
    Release dateFeb 1, 2021
    ISBN9781640060005
    Found A Marble

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      Book preview

      Found A Marble - Karen Fonville

      Chapter 1

      Time had not been kind to my old neighborhood.

      Built before the era of cookie-cutter subdivisions, so even though the floor plans were similar, each house was unique on the outside. These poor brick houses mostly need repair. Shutters need painting or repair, railings need a coat of paint, and some need a good landscaper to give them some attention.

      A few of them have had some remodeling touches to the outside - here a rock wall replaced by plain cement, there a new fence.

      The concrete road was cracked and filled with potholes that were bound to get worse before the new pastor's house was finished.

      Tomorrow the bulldozers come to tear down our woods. A big part of my childhood, ripped away.

      I'm actually surprised the woods have lasted this long. They aren't that big, one or two lots only, and owned by the church across the street.

      But they were OUR woods.

      Cool, shady, and full of mystery that only children can see. Fairies and pirates, armies and castles. The ground was flat for about twenty feet, then sloped down. From the bottom, the woods rose up another hill to encompass the Gibson's extremely large back yard - also full of trees. Black walnut, some oak, and weeping willows here and there.

      From the road, I saw the two logs we played on- the one that lay on the ground, and the one that propped perpendicular against the hill. Oh, we loved climbing on that one, testing our strength, our balance, and our courage.

      I snapped a few pictures with my cellphone. For old times' sake. Then I listened to the sounds of nature, enjoying the solitude. Cicadas sang, birds sang and flitted from tree to tree. Even the buzz of flies and the croaking of a lone bull frog. I listened long enough that I thought I could hear God moving through the branches of those towering trees.

      With a smile, I nodded and rejoiced in His presence, here where I'd found Him so long ago in my time of need.

      And yet, right now, memories were just not enough. I had to experience those woods once more as I had back when we played here.

      Opening my eyes, I pushed through the honeysuckle bushes, grabbing one of the blooms as I went. The fruity smell tickled my nose, and I stopped to breath that luscious scent in as deep as I could, burying it in my mind. Then I popped the 'cap', touching the bloom to my tongue.

      Sweet, just like I remembered.

      My feet send frissons of dry dirt down the hill. It hadn't rained in this part of Kentucky for over a month and some of the grasses and leaves were limp and dying. The dust rose and tickled my nose. I sneezed, and scared a young rabbit from hiding.

      The small brown thing scampered quickly from sight almost before my eyes registered it.

      Fifteen years since we played here.

      Fifteen years since Danny disappeared.

      Danny Miller.

      I still miss him. My best friend in the world. We played cars and trucks and army, even though Mom said it wasn't right for a girl to play with the boys. I told her that was okay because he played dolls and school and talent show with me, too. We never played 'family' though. And I hadn't thought that odd until right now.

      Oh, I played 'family' with the other girls in the neighborhood, with 'husbands', and babies, and the troubles that young girls thought went with families. But as close as we were, Danny and I never thought about playing 'family.'

      I reached the first, perpendicular, fallen tree and leaned against it, my hand resting on its rough, crumbling bark. The log shifted under my weight. Probably rotting after all this time, so I stood straight again.

      Our 'fort' called to me, a four-foot depression in the ground right in line with the tree. What would the world look like from there to adult eyes? Would it be as big and magical as it was back then?

      I had to know.

      One step and the loose dirt slid from beneath my feet. Startled, I shouted as I tumbled then fell silent with a grunt when I hit the tree stump on the way down the hill. More dirt came with me, filling my mouth, my eyes, my hair.

      I grabbed at passing bushes, let go as stickers stabbed my hands. I slid over the edge and into the fort, coming to a stop as I fell the four feet to the bottom.

      Not gonna lie.

      I saw stars.

      More dirt slithered down behind me.

      As the stars faded from my sight and the world stopped spinning, I laughed at myself. What a final memory I would have of these beloved woods! And now, the scrapes and bruises would give me 'trophies' to remember, too.

      Up the street, the Robinson's yappy dog barked. That dog- a miniature brown poodle - I think it's the same one- always barked, so Mrs. Robinson probably wouldn't come to check what was bothering it.

      As I continued checking for damage, my pocket didn't feel right. Oh, NO! My phone was gone. I had to find it.

      No major damage to my body, just a twisted ankle, and those sticker scratches. I sent up a quick prayer of thanks for the protection He'd given me on the trip down the hill.

      As I twisted around and planted my hands on the dirt to push myself up, my right hand closed on something hard and round. Flipping whatever it was away to get a better grip on the ground, my eye was caught by the way it reflected the fading light as it rolled deeper down the hill into the forest gloom.

      What was that?

      I followed it the rest of the way down the hill. Gingerly. One cautious step at a time. No sense in doing any more damage to my ankle.

      At the bottom of the hill, the brush was a bit thicker and lusher as a small stream trickled there. It wasn't much of a stream, maybe two feet wide in the rainy season. Now, it was only about six inches wide.

      But to wide-eyed kids, it had been a raging river in a vast jungle. Wow, did we have fun digging for worms and convincing ourselves we could actually fish there.

      I think my dad must have cracked a rib laughing when I told him. Mom made him come with me one day to make sure we were safe playing there. Then he really got into the operation, helping us find the best place to dig for worms. (I think that was to get back at Mom. You know, girly girl coming home all covered in dirt from digging for worms.)

      Danny never forgave me for

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