He threw a worried look behind him as he ran, and the "no trespassing" sign that should have been getting smaller seemed to be getting bigger all the time.
He wondered why he had ever decided to steal carrots from
the farmer Jacob in the first place.
His regret turned into panic as a shot rank out and salt
ripped through the leaves of a tree directly to his side. The carrots quickly fell from his hand
and from his list of priorities as his legs shifted into gears previously
undiscovered.
"You… thieving…. Son…. Ofagun!" the farmer Jacob
gasped out as he ran, tearing through the underbrush.
Jacob swept by the carrots, glancing as he passed, intent on
catching more than just his property.
The thief, a 14-year-old by the name of Jesse, was a repeat
offender, though by nature he was far from offensive. He was just mischievous and with great capacity for eating.
As Jesse flew along, he glanced one too many times behind
him, running headlong off an embankment into a creek bed, breaking his arm and
bloodying his nose. Despite the
pain he tried to bury himself in the mud, panic still retaining a hold on his
mind.
Jacob arrived at the creek bed wheezing, nearly tumbling
into it himself. Jesse's disguise
hardly cold be considered camouflage, and he was easily spotted.
"Alright varmint, get out of there!" Jacob
shouted, leveling his shotgun.
The mud didn't move at first. But then it started to shift
and a sniffling boy rose from the filth, arm askew and face a mess.
When he saw the arm, Jacob's countenance changed and he
lowered his gun.
"You…, you…, I caught
you!" Jacob said haltingly." What's … wrong with your arm?"
"I think its broke,"
Jesse responded.
Jacob tossed his gun aside. He suddenly recollected his own mischievous
self at the age of 14, stealing onions from his farmer neighbor. He cursed himself and his precious
carrots.
He broke off two sticks and
fashioned a makeshift brace for the boy's broken arm, then carried him back to his
house and called the doctor. While
they waited they ate carrot soup.
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