Blogtober 2025, Day 24:

 

Lucy's Path: Chapter Twenty-four


Sarah woke to birdsong that didn’t sound real—too precise, too rehearsed. The campfire had burned down to gray dust, and Mark sat silently where they’d left him, still mouthing words the air refused to carry. Tyler slept fitfully, muttering Emily’s name.

Sarah stood, brushing off her jacket. The woods felt… reset. Cleaner somehow. As she turned toward the path, she saw movement near the trees—a flash of pale fabric, the glint of braids.

“Lucy?” she called before she could stop herself.

The girl stepped into view, hands folded neatly in front of her. She looked younger than in the photographs, almost peaceful. Her eyes were dark but not empty.

“You found her,” Lucy said softly. “The Lady likes you. She says you still have a choice.”

Sarah swallowed. “What choice?”

Lucy pointed toward a patch of freshly turned soil. Beneath it, Sarah unearthed a small tin box. Inside were photographs—children lined up beside the oak, each holding a ribbon. In the background stood Mrs. Price, smiling proudly, as if she were posing for a yearbook instead of a ritual.

Lucy touched the photo, her expression flickering. “They thought they were keeping her happy. They were just feeding her future.”

Sarah looked up sharply, but Lucy was gone. Only a single ribbon remained in the dirt, embroidered with two words that hadn’t been there before: Sarah Wren.


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