Give Thanks to The Trust
by Angela Watt
‘We give thanks to The Trust,’ my father says once we are sitting at the table ready to eat.
I mumble the words, head bowed, hair damp from the cold water I’d splashed over myself earlier. Hanging out in the wastelands makes you grimy. Grey ash-like flakes float in the air, cling to the skin, make you lick your lips to rid yourself of that strange lingering taste. Some of my friends say it’s the remains of those that burned. But none of us know.
We eat in silence. Something is not right. It’s there in my mother’s eyes, in the way she carefully serves my food, and in the way she gently brushes against me. After dinner and once my father has gone to write his sermon, I ask if my notification has arrived.
‘Yes,’ she whispers, pulling me close. ‘They’re coming. The Trust is coming. Run, child. Run.’
Angela Watt, a writer from Cheshire, recently finished a draft of her novel, Pretty Head. As a distraction from editing, she enjoys reading gothic and crime fiction, eating cheese and is a lover of fountain pens, cats and notebooks.
This story was shortlisted in the November 24 Monthly Micro Competition.