Hobnail - creative writing.

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Josh Holt-Flusk

HOBNAIL

Kate Phillips sat cross – legged on her Uncle John’s front porch; her favourite rag doll clutched under one arm. The late afternoon sun shone through the leaves of the giant oak tree, casting its flickering light on the cabin. The golden motion of light fascinated the child and she sat with her face turned upward, as if hypnotized. The steady hum of conversation flowed from inside of the cabin.

“Ellen, I’m sure happy that you came to church with us today. Why don’t you spend the night? It’s getting awfully late and it will be dark before you make it home.”

“I’ll be fine sally.” Replied Kate’s mother. “Anyhow, you know how Scott is about his supper. I left plenty for him and the boys on the back of the stove, but he’ll want Kate and me home. Besides, he’ll want to hear if Sam Bosworth’s wife managed to drag him into the church.”

The laughter that followed her mother’s statement broke the child’s musings and she stood up, pulled her dress over the overhanging underskirt, and stepped inside.

“Get your shawl Kate. When the sun goes down, it’ll get chilly.”

As the little girl went to the chair by the fireplace to retrieve her wrap, her uncle came in from the back with a lantern.

“You’ll need this Ellen. The wick is new and I’ve filled it up for you.”

“I appreciate it Johnny.” Ellen said. “I’ll have Scott bring it back when he goes to town next week.”

Ellen kissed her younger brother good – bye and hugged Sally gently. Patting her sister-in-law on her swollen belly, she said, “I’ll be back at the end of the month. Don’t be lifting anything heavy. If that queasy feeling keeps bothering you, brew some of that mint tea I left in the kitchen. Lord knows I’ve never seen a baby keep its mummy so sick as much as this one has. It’s a boy for sure.”

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Upon hearing this, Kate frowned. She was the youngest in her family, and the only girl. After living with four brothers, she had prayed passionately to god every night for him to let her aunt have a girl. The only other comfort she had was the pretty rag doll that her mother had made for her. Tucking the doll under her left arm and gathering the shawl with the same hand, she stood waiting patiently. Aunt Sally kissed her lightly on the cheek and squeezed Kate gently.

“if I have a girl, I hope that she will be as sweet ...

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