Marigold

The Man

She crawled through the hole and found herself in a small, dark room: a bedroom. There was straw on the floor (for sleeping?), and a pile of rags in the corner that vaguely resembled clothes. Marigold decided that she’d been in the house and that should be enough for the children to accept her. However, when she turned to go back through the gap in the wall, she heard the children laugh and jeer as the wood moved back over the hole.

Marigold started to sob; big, fat tears ran down her pale cheeks. She was terrified now and wanted to leave at any cost. She spotted a door at the end of the room, and thought that there may be an exit on the other side. Through this door was another room, and in the middle of it there was an old man. He was sitting in a rickety-looking rocking chair. Marigold assumed the old man couldn’t see her–his eyes were a strange milky white color and he hadn’t made any indication that he had noticed her entrance.

Marigold approached him, thinking he must still be able to talk and would hopefully tell her how to get out of this awful, dank house. Marigold watched him for a moment, her heart beating fast. She was wondering about what she would say to him.