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Marilyn woke up and looked at the ceiling above her in the loft. She could hear Emilee breathing in the second bed to her side, and she could feel the cool air of the room attempting to invade the space under her quilt.  Yet, her thoughts were not on these things.

 

What am I doing? How can I tell everyone to keep up the fight when half the time, I don’t even know what the fight is or why we are fighting. She thought about the Thought Control, doubt towers in town, and half-felt like someone had built one in her bedroom. She rolled her eyes at herself. I don’t need a magic tower to give me doubts.

 

As quietly as she could, she pulled her dress on over her head, slipped her feet into her boots, and lowered the ladder to the main room. She descended to the room below to find Fuller sitting by the cooking stove sipping a steaming cup of tea.

 

Fuller motioned to her, pointed at the kettle, but said nothing. Marilyn decided the Ringman was being quiet for the sake of others sleeping. Wonder what time it is? Marilyn looked through the window to the east and realized only the faintest hints of dawn were evident.

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Copyright 2018, 2019, 2020  —  Bill Snodgrass