The fog was coming in too thick and too fast for Sequoia’s liking. She knew she had to reach the top of the tower before it overcame her. Why did she ever think leaving the comfort of this tower was a good idea? In a way, the fog was a blessing, for without it; she was afraid they would find her. However, if it came too fast, one misstep on the dew covered hidden stairs would mean her tragic end.
She could hear the barking of the dogs in the distance as they tracked her scent. A man yelled, “This way, come on hurry up or we will lose her.” More yelling voices echoed in the distance. They were closing in and fast. Blowing out the tiny glowing light from her lantern, she quickened her pace. Just a few more stairs she told herself quietly.
Finally, she could just barely make out the shadowy arch of the tall forbidding dark oak doorway. In the eighteen years she had lived here, not one person had dared enter. It was her refuge in a world of hateful unaccepting people. She was forced to run away from town when she was only fourteen. For they had accused her mother and aunts of being witches burning them at the stake without a trial. Then coming for her in the dead of night.
Tonight’s unfortunate run-in with the town drunk put her mind back to that long cold night so many years ago. The pain she felt tore through her cutting deep into her core. It was as if she were a kid again, running for her life for the first time. How did they even know it was her after all this time?