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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required (From the novel: The Truth About Make-Believe by Mickey Grubb) Standing in the middle of the rear seat, the tiny legs moved quickly from side to side to keep the rest of the body upright and in place as the car made its way through the night over narrow, winding West Virginia roads. There had to be someone in the car steering although the young boy could not see anyone or hear anyone speak – just frightening silence. The ride was short but seemed like an eternity, not being able to make sense of it all. While a two-year old may not have much depth in understanding, some things are understood through a natural process, instinct. As sudden as a memory, the motion came to a halt. A light came on, then extinguished. There was hardly time for the eyes to adjust or focus. Then, abruptly, the light turned on again. A door had opened. A strange man leaned into the cavity and reached for the child’s arm. His hand touched the shirtsleeve, but was unable to secure a grip. The small body quickly retreated to the far side of the car desperately trying to avoid capture, not really knowing how to evade anything, maneuvering solely on impulse, a sixth sense. Unable to reach the lad without climbing into his space, the silence was broken by words familiar to the child. “Come here, boy,” barked the stern voice. Now frozen by the piercing sound waves, the prey was swiftly seized without much of a fight, dragged across the seat, a cover flung over his head plunging him into total darkness. The defenseless quarry was picked-up and carried away into the night, confused and frightened, helpless and alone. He was you know – alone.
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