In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Call Me Ishmael.”
By Scott Bailey © 2014
She came out of the store just in time to see her young son playing on the sidewalk directly in the path of the gray, gaunt man who strode down the centre of the walk like a mechanical derelict.
The boy looked up at her once the man had passed, saw the fear, the hatred in her eyes.
“What’s up? What is the danger?”
She looked troubled by his questions, as if he had stirred something in her she did not wish to confront.
He seemed to be seeing this a lot lately.
“He is a leper,” she answered curtly.
“And that makes him dangerous?” the boy asked. She stared at him as if wondering where his curiosity was coming from. And well she might.
That was not important to him…
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