Welcome to WEP's Blogfest for January [=Write-Edit-Publish, formerly 'Romantic Friday Writers'] Challenge for Wednesday 22nd January 2014 - 'New Beginnings':
'It's the uncertainty...'
It was a cold, icy morning in January with new snow blanketing the rural landscape after an unusually warm autumn and snowless Christmas. A woman dressed in winter boots, knitted hat and drab grey woolen overcoat, stepped out of a small blue car parked by the stone wall around the country church. She held a large brown envelope under her arm, as she knocked on the church door. The door was opened by a tall slender woman dressed in a black kaftan.
'How do you do, mrs Bly? Please come in. I'm Kristell Karlsson, assistent pastor. We spoke on the phone. I'm so sorry to hear about your daughter. Would you like a cup of tea or coffee while we talk?'
'How do you do, mrs Bly? Please come in. I'm Kristell Karlsson, assistent pastor. We spoke on the phone. I'm so sorry to hear about your daughter. Would you like a cup of tea or coffee while we talk?'
'Yes, tea please,' replied mrs Bly, trying to catch her breath as she briskly followed pastor Karlsson to a smaller meeting room behind the sacristy. The two woman sat at a large and elegant wooden dining-room table decorated with lace doilies and a vase filled with dried flowers. Pastor Karlsson poured tea into two china cups and asked whether mrs Bly took sugar, and lemon or milk.
'How long has your daughter, Karla, been missing?'
'Since the day before yesterday.'
'And you've reported it to the police?'
'Yes. They've asked me all kinds of questions. They even want me to give them samples of fabric with her blood, disgarded bandages or stained sheets from a scraped knee. Just in case. It's not easy to find. That's not the sort of thing you save.'
'I see. Well, I hope they won't need them. They probably ask everybody that routinely. What do you have there?' asked Kristell, changing the subject by pointing at Sonja Bly's thick envelope.'
Mrs Bly opened the envelope and took out a poster with the photographic portrait of a smiling nine year old girl, with the caption, 'Have you seen our daughter, Karla?' above the photo image. 'Would it be alright if I posted one of these on the bulletin board here at church for people to see?'
'Yes, of course. What an excellent idea. Did the police suggest this?'
'No, it was my own idea. I've been putting these up everywhere. I hope it helps. I'm thinking that maybe someone has seen her. And now that it's turned so cold, we may be running out of time. We need to find her fast.'
'Is there anything else I can do to help? I could write something in the weekly bulletin and say something in church on Sunday, unless she returns before then. There is still hope. She may even come home today.'
'That's what the police say. But so far we have not found a trace of her anywhere. And no one has claimed to have kidnapped her. No demands for ransom.'
'Is there anything else?'
'Yes. Please pray for Karla. It is so cold now. If she is out wandering about in the woods, she could freeze to death. After two search parties, no sign of her has been found.'
'Would you like to pray with me now?' asked Kristell gently.
Sonja Bly took a sip of tea, put the cup down on the flaming birch table and then covered her face with her hands, 'Yes, let's pray. Prayer maybe the only thing we can do for her now.'
Before the prayer, Kristell Karlsson found a box of paper tissues and gave it to Sonja Bly, who had begun to weep.
Kristell held both of Sonja's hands and prayed for Karla's safe return.
'How long has your daughter, Karla, been missing?'
'Since the day before yesterday.'
'And you've reported it to the police?'
'Yes. They've asked me all kinds of questions. They even want me to give them samples of fabric with her blood, disgarded bandages or stained sheets from a scraped knee. Just in case. It's not easy to find. That's not the sort of thing you save.'
'I see. Well, I hope they won't need them. They probably ask everybody that routinely. What do you have there?' asked Kristell, changing the subject by pointing at Sonja Bly's thick envelope.'
Mrs Bly opened the envelope and took out a poster with the photographic portrait of a smiling nine year old girl, with the caption, 'Have you seen our daughter, Karla?' above the photo image. 'Would it be alright if I posted one of these on the bulletin board here at church for people to see?'
'Yes, of course. What an excellent idea. Did the police suggest this?'
'No, it was my own idea. I've been putting these up everywhere. I hope it helps. I'm thinking that maybe someone has seen her. And now that it's turned so cold, we may be running out of time. We need to find her fast.'
'Is there anything else I can do to help? I could write something in the weekly bulletin and say something in church on Sunday, unless she returns before then. There is still hope. She may even come home today.'
'That's what the police say. But so far we have not found a trace of her anywhere. And no one has claimed to have kidnapped her. No demands for ransom.'
'Is there anything else?'
'Yes. Please pray for Karla. It is so cold now. If she is out wandering about in the woods, she could freeze to death. After two search parties, no sign of her has been found.'
'Would you like to pray with me now?' asked Kristell gently.
Sonja Bly took a sip of tea, put the cup down on the flaming birch table and then covered her face with her hands, 'Yes, let's pray. Prayer maybe the only thing we can do for her now.'
Before the prayer, Kristell Karlsson found a box of paper tissues and gave it to Sonja Bly, who had begun to weep.
Kristell held both of Sonja's hands and prayed for Karla's safe return.
She's only nine years old,' said Sonja and thought: Nine years old! Karla's not a toddler anymore, but what comfort is that? Nine years old is still very, very young.
Sonja was grateful that Karla was small for her age and looked younger than her actual nine years. She remembered with horror newspaper articles about young girls who mature physically too early and look like they are about eighteen when they only are eleven, twelve or thirteen.
Sonja was grateful that Karla was small for her age and looked younger than her actual nine years. She remembered with horror newspaper articles about young girls who mature physically too early and look like they are about eighteen when they only are eleven, twelve or thirteen.
'Thank you for your time, pastor,' said Sonja Bly as she rose from the table to leave.
'What are you going to do now?'
'I've got an appointment with a local radio station. The police are coming home to us this afternoon to discuss our next course of action.'
'Take this card, Sonja. It's the number to my privat mobil phone for unusual situations like this. I keep this phone in a special pocket near my heart. Call me anytime. If I don't answer, leave a text message.'
'Thank you pastor.'
'Call me Kristell.'
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Word count according to WordCalc: 784
This text is fictional! Any resemblance to events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidencial.
This text is fictional! Any resemblance to events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidencial.
Best wishes,
Anna
First Commenter:
Lin
of
Duck and Wheel With String
