Morgan's Father

She thinks of him stroking her hair as she sits in his lap, the whiskers on his chin scratching her face as he holds her close. "If any one ever hurts you, Morgan, you tell me," he whispers to her. "I’ll go after him. I won’t let anyone hurt my girl."

He is a big and bulky man, with the strength of a heavyweight wrestler and a temper to match. Except with Morgan. He has never spoken a word in anger to her, never treated her with anything but love and tenderness.

Morgan and her father have always been a team. Together for ever. She looks like him, with her dark dishevelled hair and deep green eyes. He is the teacher, she the willing pupil, learning from him all the skills and secrets he can show her.

As long as she and her father are together, she knows she is safe. Her pace quickens. She must get home. She must get back to her father, back to safety.

Not a single car passes as she makes her way home. She doesn’t know what time it is; she never wears a watch.

She is passing the business estate on the corner of the street she lives on. It looks dark and forbidding so late at night. From the corner of her eye she thinks she sees something move in the shadows. My imagination, she thinks uneasily, and quickens her pace.

A moment later she slows down, growing nervous; she is sure she hears footsteps echoing hers. She knows it is a man, even though she cannot make out his face in the darkness. She clutches her shoulder bag tighter to her; steps up her pace. The echoing footsteps behind her also increase in speed. The man is closing in on her. She walks even faster; the footsteps still match hers. She begins to jog, then to run.

[End of this extract. The full story was published in Roadworks]