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Mop-Head
Mop-Head
Mop-Head
Ebook23 pages20 minutes

Mop-Head

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In abandoned cisterns and old wells, in moldy heaps of straw forgotten in the corners of deserted barns, in reedy pools deep in the woods, in fungied hollows of dead trees, in all such secret places apart from man, strange life engenders, drifts in and takes root and form.

In a place called Yancey’s Meadow such a thing grew and waxed and made itself a shape, listened and dozed and waited.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateApr 10, 2016
ISBN9781515405535
Mop-Head

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    Book preview

    Mop-Head - Leah Bodine Drake

    Mop-Head

    By Leah Bodine Drake

    © 2016 Positronic Publishing

    Cover Image © CanStockPhoto / Lonely11

    Positronic Publishing

    PO Box 632

    Floyd VA 24091

    ISBN 13: 978-1-5154-0553-5

    First Positronic Publishing Edition

    10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

    Mop-Head

    By Leah Bodine Drake

    In abandoned cisterns and old wells, in moldy heaps of straw forgotten in the corners of deserted barns, in reedy pools deep in the woods, in fungied hollows of dead trees, in all such secret places apart from man, strange life engenders, drifts in and takes root and form.

    In a place called Yancey’s Meadow such a thing grew and waxed and made itself a shape, listened and dozed and waited.

    Dorothy, where are you and Harry Todd going?

    Just over the Yancey’s Meadow to play, Mrs. Trevyllian.

    Not Mrs. Trevyllian, honey—mother.

    "Yes . . . mother."

    Well, don’t you all stay long. Daddy’ll be home from Court early today.

    "Yes’m . . . mother."

    Oh, dear, thought Aline Loveless, will I ever make a dent in that child’s affections? Won’t she ever forget that I was Mrs. Trevyllian and not her natural-born mother? Little Harry Todd accepts me—at least, he tolerates me. But Dorothy, no.

    The stout, pretty red-haired woman watched the two little figures, seven-year-old girl and five-year-old brother, as they moved off towards the fields that lay close by, for the home of Jeff Loveless stood on the edge of the small county seat of Elkford.

    I declare, she thought bitterly, if I’d known what a chore it would turn out to be, trying to mother a dead woman’s children,

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