The Eyes Of A Fetch (Excerpt 346) My Fault

“Lyla wake up, Lyla!” says Crispin as he sits next to her on the settee. He is holding her in his arms as she thrashes about trying to break free. She opens her eyes. “What? What happened?” she questions then she looks at Crispin. At first, she is frightened but as he relaxes from trying to wake her, she grabs him hugging him close. He smiles and hugs her back.

“What’s going on?” he asks with a grin. “Are you okay?” he pulls back so he can see her face. “I am now, I. . . I was having a nightmare.” She replies. “In the afternoon, hum?” Crispin smiles at her. “That would be my fault.”

“What?” Lyla asks. She wonders if he knows what she was dreaming. Actually, in her mind she questions if it was really a dream at all. “I kept you up too late.” He replies.

“Oh,” she says realizing he is not talking about her dream at all. “Yes, maybe this cat nap did me some good.” It then dawns on her. How did Crispin get in the house? Had she left a door unlocked? “How, how did you. . . ?”

“Get in the house?” he quizzes. Lyla nods yes. “You left the veranda door unlocked.”

“Oh. I guess I did that after I set the grill up.” She scoots up into a sitting position. “What time is it?”

“Five thirty.” He replies as he watches her intently. “What were you dreaming about?”

“Oh, I uh. . . I really don’t remember.” She says as she looks away. How can she tell him she was dreaming of a beautiful field filled with droves of people grabbing at her and acting as if they wanted to devour her? Most importantly, they all looked like him.

Excerpt 346

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