Stream of consciousness Sunday: The wrong stuff, part twenty one…

Stream of consciousness Sunday: The wrong stuff, part twenty one…

17APR

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Welcome to the semi-regular, almost certainly temporary Sunday slot for SoCS, wherein we continue the adventures of Hannah and friends, this week with the help of Linda G Hill’s prompt;

” “no.”  Try to think of a specific number, as “no.” is often used as an abbreviation for “number,” and write about it. Or, use it as a word. “

Ok, off we go…

The Wrong Stuff.
Part twenty one – The gang’s all here.

Hannah looked down through a gap in the leaves of the lower canopy, from her position on the branch of an ancient, spreading oak tree, a dizzying twenty feet above the ground. She had clambered up here after Frank had rugby tackled Forrester and carried him through the rift and now had a good view of the clearing and the few remaining searchers, who roamed unenthusiastically around the woods below.
Two of Forrester’s protection detail were stationed at the rift, keeping a wary eye on it whilst staying a safe distance away and making aimless circuits of the clearing, peering into the gloomy dawn light which filtered down through the branches of the trees and occasionally talking quietly on their radios.

She looked at her watch; it was nearly an hour since Frank and Forrester had disappeared and now she was getting cramp in her thigh.
Hannah eased her frozen, numb arse off the branch and lowered her feet onto the one beneath her, carefully locating hand-holds before stretching her stiff legs and continuing her descent.

I can’t just perch in a tree and wait, she thought, I have to get to the rift, I’ve got to…

Then she slipped.

It was lucky for her that she passed between the two lowest branches, giving her a clear, uninterrupted fall of about eight feet to a relatively soft landing of the leafy woodla…

 

The Wrong Stuff Part twenty two

The wrong stuff, part twenty one…

The wrong, stuff part twenty

The wrong stuff part one

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