Victoria Driscoll

Unspoken Treasure

The rust from these chains are scraping off any intact skin I still have on my ankles as I run desperately away from the disheveled men chasing me. In the distance I hear voices angrily yell, “Get her! We cannot let her see what lies in those leather bound pages! All will be lost!” I gripped the small black book tighter in my grasp and tried to quickly look for a place to hide. My wounds are deep and the blood that releases from my hands is being absorbed by the bound pages that were created with animal skin.