And There Sat Ginger Ed

And There Sat Ginger Ed

This is the conclusion of the children’s mystery story. Yesterday (Wednesday) my sister-in-law Linda and I went to Fran’s St. Pat’s luncheon. I made some pictures as did Jane. I’ll post them and the impressions of the luncheon tomorrow. But right now, on to Ginger Ed!

Sally scrunched her eyes tight shut and counted sheep. She got to two hundred before she gave up and decided counting sheep was not a bit of help in going to sleep.  All she could think about was Ginger Ed. Would he dare show his face or was he in hiding somewhere? Maybe he headed into the woods where the snow would cover his footprints.

The trouble with closing her eyes was each time she did, Sally saw images of the outlaw. He had horns. He had sharp, pointed teeth and wicked, squinty eyes. He laughed an awful, horrible laugh as he set about robbing them and tying them up. Her imagination got wilder the longer she stayed awake. Why, even now that limb rubbing against the screen on the kitchen window sounded as if somebody was trying to get in.

A chill shook Sally and she sat straight up in bed, her eyes wide and staring into the darkness. The noise was not a limb. A sliding sound and a soft thump broke the stillness. Somebody had raised the window and stepped inside the kitchen. 

For a full minute, Sally sat frozen, shivering. From the second bedroom came Mama’s soft snores. Her mother was sound asleep; she was the only one awake. Her heart going as fast as a galloping horse, Sally looked wildly around her bedroom. What should she do? Slowly, she slid one foot onto the cold board floor, then her other foot. Holding onto the bed post, she stood up and crept to her bedroom door. She eased it open a crack and peered into the kitchen.004 (2)

A few flickering flames from the fireplace pushed away some of the kitchen’s darkness. The light played on the figure of a man, sitting on the bench at the dining table, hunched over a plate of cold biscuits left from supper. A fringe of reddish hair and a tattered black and white striped prison shirt told Sally that this intruder was none other than the terrible, wicked Ginger Ed.

But where was the evil man who had been sent to prison for breaking the law? He did not look mean or threatening. He looked old and thin, hungry and half-frozen. His pants had holes in them. Had he torn them on a barbed wire fence or blackberry bushes as he ran from prison? His shoes were run over and had no laces. 

Sally could not have moved if she had wanted to. She watched as Ginger Ed wolfed down most of the biscuits and stuck the remaining ones into his pocket. He glided to the fireplace, held out his hands to its warmth, then moved like a shadow to the window. He stuck one leg through, then the other. Noiselessly, he slipped onto the ground and disappeared into the shadows of the night.

Sally’s throat felt tight and tears stung her eyes. Where would Ginger Ed go? Would the sheriff catch him? Would he freeze to death in the cold? 

Crossing her arms tightly over her chest to still their shaking, Sally padded out of her room and into Mama’s bedroom. She had to tell her mama that the leftover biscuits were gone and with them went her fear of a legendary outlaw. She knew that Mama would understand why she was crying.

—————————————————————————————————————————   Critique: Some foreshadowing would have been nice. I could have mentioned Mama’s biscuits earlier and had Sally munching one while she was under the quilting frame. Also, more character development even in a story as short as this one would have been good. And…probably many other things. What do you think?

 

 

Comments

  1. I like it!

  2. So touching! I like it, too!

  3. An intriguing little story. I agree, Blanche, character development needs to be tight, a snapshot to ‘ground’ a personality. Parts of the story were overly descriptive which slows the pace. It would be an interesting exercise to have other people rewrite it.

    Rewriting short stories might be a good exercise for writing groups. Thanks for sharing your story, Blanche, you fired a few new ideas.

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