To start off the story
It was an afternoon in the cabin and everything was calm. It was peaceful, the world around her was filled with beauty. Her family in the cabin surrounded by the forest. The willow tree had a breeze going through it and the other trees around the house had so much life with the baby birds cherpping and calling for their parents for food. Yes, it truely was a beautiful late afternoon in spring, south America for Merlia Von Baker.
But it was soon to spoil as she heard her son, Calvin, only eight years of age screaming. Merlia immediately got up from her spot on the porch, dropped her book, and ran to where she believed her son would be. He kept screaming, she couldn’t find him anywhere downstairs she started calling his name, “Calvin? Calvin where are you!?” she ran upstairs and found her son in the room of her new born baby, Elliot. She looked in shere horror as she saw a tall man with a crying Elliot in his arms.
Calvin was screaming still, adding to the kaos. She ran in the room and pushed Calvin outside the room, quickly told him repeatively to go to his room, and closed the door. As she turned around she couldn’t believe her eyes as the strange man was walking toward the window. She screamed as she ran to him and tried to take her baby back. The man gave her a look of harsh repelent that sent her off his with a shove. By the time she had gotten up, the baby was gone.
The crying stopped as she ran to the open window and looked down. She didn’t see anything. Just the doors to the cellar open. She gasped and covered her mouth in shock. Merlia fell to her nees tangling her long heavy dress. Her heavy head plummeting into her nees as she began to cry. Tears running down her face as she silently wept as her new born son was completely gone from her. She felt a hand on her shoulder.
She turned around and screamed, crying more intensely now, as she saw the woodsman who kidnapped her son. She bearied her head again in her nees as she never wanted to look behind her again. But then she heard Calvin’s soft voice, “mother?” she turned around slowly, looking at the hand on her shoulder to the arm who had it and then the face of her first son. His face was filled with concern and grief with stains of tears again rolling down his face. Her mind was playing tricks on her.
She turned around and took her son in ambrace. They stayed like this, comforting each other in the now horrible, deftdifying room in the evil, black late afternoon for what felt like an hours.