Fiction: Prisoners

Horace knew he was being a coward and berated himself for it. But the thought of what he was leaving behind set his feet moving toward London’s navy docks.

“An’ where are you going at this early hour, young man?” a man’s voice boomed.

Horace spun to his right.

“Shush, Evan! People are trying to sleep.”

“Notably the people you’re sneaking away from,” the old man said.

Horace grimaced but didn’t contradict Evan Smith. “That’s none of your concern.” He started walking up the street again and wasn’t surprised to find Evan tagging along.

Continue reading “Fiction: Prisoners”