Run, Run Away

My next novella.  Well, it's sort of my first novella, since When The Storm Passes is novel-length.

Here's a little bit:


“Is he going to believe any of that?” my sister asked, raising her little blonde eyebrow. It was unsettling, that eyebrow, because I didn’t know any other girls who could do it except my mother.  Growing up in the same house, Vi must have picked it up. She’d been doing it since she was a toddler. 
“No,” I answered. “Of course he won’t. If you come with me, we’ll both be apostate sinners. Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?”  
But even as I spoke, I gently laid the note on Father’s work bench, where he’d be sure to find it if he came for his horses before dawn.  If he failed to notice our absence, one of the boys would find the note by morning. Horses don’t feed themselves.
Violet nodded solemnly, her twelve-year-old eyes grave. “I don’t think we have any other choice,” she said. “And our ride will be here in about fifteen minutes.”
“We better run, then. Come on.”  We hitched our flour sack bags over our shoulders, peeked around the barn door, and lit through the early autumn fields like the devil was after us.  Which he was.