Ben Krohn Hawkins (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} b_hawkins) wrote,@ 2005-04-19 16:10:00 |
|
Sneaking
Ben wandered into the house, closing the screen door as quietly as physically possible. Every step was somewhat deliberate as he attempted to sneak through the halls of the large house. He moved passed numerous pictures framed on the walls, glancing about to make sure he was going to be caught.
As he passed an open door, he paused by the edge, realising that it was occupied. An elderly man, wheel-chair bound, was sitting, staring out the window. The man slowly and silently turned and saw Ben, causing the young man to panic and silently stand in the one place in terror. Ben's mouth was open slightly. Ben was panicking- he could NOT be seen. This would ruin everything. He needs to find and kill the Preacher. The old man will call for someone and Hawkins'll be found and killed.
The old man was silent, staring at Ben with the very very slightest furrowing of his brow. Suddenly, he tilted his head upwards and to the left slightly, flicking his eyes in the general direction of the stairs further down the corridor. Ben turned slightly and saw the stairs. The old man turned back slowly and returned to staring at the world outside.
Ben slowly crept up the stairs, each step causing the near-ancient wood to creak. His eyes stared upwards into the upper floor, trying to see if he was in danger of being caught. He recoiled slightly, pulling back down the stairs just a little when he heard a door slam shut. He lifted his leg, pulled up his trousers a little and pulled his father's knife from its hiding place, blade down Ben's sock. Ben pressed himself to the wall, his chest heaving as adrenaline started to take hold in his veins. He crept upstairs, knife at the ready, as he rounded the and turned another left. He paused at the junction of the corridor he was in and the next one, carefully staring down the path he was going to take. He moved into it, quickly glancing behind him to make sure no one was there. He approached a closed door and opened it as quietly as possible, although the door had other plans and creaked loudly. Ben peeked his head into the room, half-hoping that Brother Justin wasn't there. He was worried about the combat that was soon to come, if it came to that.
With a backwards glance, he moved into the next room to find it empty. However, on the floor was a shard of a broken mirror, which Ben picked up and stared at. Suddenly, a black shadowy figured moved passed the entrance to the room, causing Ben to freeze for a moment before turning slowly and stalking the figure down the corridor, into just another empty room. However, this was a bedroom judging by the bed. The room was adorned with the usual furniture- chest of draws, a single drawer with an oval mirror perched upon it and a cupboard.
Seeing that Justin was no-where to be found, Ben placed his father's knife in his jacket pocket and slowly lifted a leather-bound book on the drawer. An open bible sat next to it.
"What are you doing here, young man?" Came a woman's voice. Ben turned in surprise to see Iris Crowe, sister of Brother Justin, with a basket of washing in her arms. "What is that?" She asked, staring at the hatchet poking out the top of the waist of his pants.
"Told me you needed firewood. Didn't know where you wanted it." He said as he pulled out the hatchet. "Put that down." Came Iris' cold reply. She was a smart woman, she wasn't buying it. Ben turned slightly and placed it next to the Bible on the nearby drawer. Iris took a few steps closer, staring into Ben's eyes. "There's no fireplace up here."
"No, Ma'am." Ben agreed, shaking his head slightly.
"Have you been Baptised, yet?" She asked, after a pause. "No Ma'am." "My brother is Baptising converts down at the pond today." Ben turned to pick up the hatchet. "Leave it." She ordered. Ben paused, glanced at the hatchet, then walked away as Iris watched carefully.
Ben wandered into the house, closing the screen door as quietly as physically possible. Every step was somewhat deliberate as he attempted to sneak through the halls of the large house. He moved passed numerous pictures framed on the walls, glancing about to make sure he was going to be caught.
As he passed an open door, he paused by the edge, realising that it was occupied. An elderly man, wheel-chair bound, was sitting, staring out the window. The man slowly and silently turned and saw Ben, causing the young man to panic and silently stand in the one place in terror. Ben's mouth was open slightly. Ben was panicking- he could NOT be seen. This would ruin everything. He needs to find and kill the Preacher. The old man will call for someone and Hawkins'll be found and killed.
The old man was silent, staring at Ben with the very very slightest furrowing of his brow. Suddenly, he tilted his head upwards and to the left slightly, flicking his eyes in the general direction of the stairs further down the corridor. Ben turned slightly and saw the stairs. The old man turned back slowly and returned to staring at the world outside.
Ben slowly crept up the stairs, each step causing the near-ancient wood to creak. His eyes stared upwards into the upper floor, trying to see if he was in danger of being caught. He recoiled slightly, pulling back down the stairs just a little when he heard a door slam shut. He lifted his leg, pulled up his trousers a little and pulled his father's knife from its hiding place, blade down Ben's sock. Ben pressed himself to the wall, his chest heaving as adrenaline started to take hold in his veins. He crept upstairs, knife at the ready, as he rounded the and turned another left. He paused at the junction of the corridor he was in and the next one, carefully staring down the path he was going to take. He moved into it, quickly glancing behind him to make sure no one was there. He approached a closed door and opened it as quietly as possible, although the door had other plans and creaked loudly. Ben peeked his head into the room, half-hoping that Brother Justin wasn't there. He was worried about the combat that was soon to come, if it came to that.
With a backwards glance, he moved into the next room to find it empty. However, on the floor was a shard of a broken mirror, which Ben picked up and stared at. Suddenly, a black shadowy figured moved passed the entrance to the room, causing Ben to freeze for a moment before turning slowly and stalking the figure down the corridor, into just another empty room. However, this was a bedroom judging by the bed. The room was adorned with the usual furniture- chest of draws, a single drawer with an oval mirror perched upon it and a cupboard.
Seeing that Justin was no-where to be found, Ben placed his father's knife in his jacket pocket and slowly lifted a leather-bound book on the drawer. An open bible sat next to it.
"What are you doing here, young man?" Came a woman's voice. Ben turned in surprise to see Iris Crowe, sister of Brother Justin, with a basket of washing in her arms. "What is that?" She asked, staring at the hatchet poking out the top of the waist of his pants.
"Told me you needed firewood. Didn't know where you wanted it." He said as he pulled out the hatchet. "Put that down." Came Iris' cold reply. She was a smart woman, she wasn't buying it. Ben turned slightly and placed it next to the Bible on the nearby drawer. Iris took a few steps closer, staring into Ben's eyes. "There's no fireplace up here."
"No, Ma'am." Ben agreed, shaking his head slightly.
"Have you been Baptised, yet?" She asked, after a pause. "No Ma'am." "My brother is Baptising converts down at the pond today." Ben turned to pick up the hatchet. "Leave it." She ordered. Ben paused, glanced at the hatchet, then walked away as Iris watched carefully.
