Craft Read Online Free PDF Page B

wound at his head. She sat down on the floor, as far
from the man as possible, and took a moment to gather her strength.
Her moment did not last long.
    “Ellie! Get in here and clean up this
mess!” Neveah called through her long-distance shout.
    Ellie sighed at the call and stood
automatically. She eyed the man who, on closer inspection, was not
as old as she had thought, and decided he would live long enough
for her to clean whatever mess Neveah was talking about.
    Neveah was waiting for her at the edge
of the tall grass separating the shack from the house. Neveah’s
eyes were bright with her sustained happiness of the fight she had
helped win. It was the kind of happiness that thrived in violence.
Though happy, she was still abrupt with Ellie when she stepped out
from behind the tall grass. There was no kindness for her sister in
her eyes. Nothing had changed between them with the fight. To
Neveah, it was just another part of the ongoing
struggle.
    Everything had changed for Ellie. For
the first time in her life, Ellie was daring to disobey Neveah. She
fidgeted with the truth of her rebellion on her mind. She was
nervous Neveah would find out the truth. Neveah gestured behind
her, toward the house.
    “Clean this mess before morning.
Grandma and Grandpa Bumbalow are coming to visit before Sunday
church. You know how they feel about messes.”
    “It’s past midnight!” Ellie said. “And
I’ve been cleaning all day…”
    “You best get started, then,” Neveah
said. “They’ll be here at nine.”
    Ellie looked at the mess of plates,
empty bottles and cans, and leftover food her family had left
around her house and yard. It was a mess of monumental proportions.
Her craft had not been able to keep up with their messiness. She
knew she would have to pick it all up by hand. Her exhaustion was
overwhelming, but she knew if she did not clean it all up as
quickly as she could, her punishment would go beyond
Neveah.
    Grandma and Grandpa Bumbalow were
old-school crafters who believed the best cure for disobeying was a
healthy beating. Ellie had been through one, and it was enough
never to want to go through it again. She still had the scars on
her back as proof of the memory. She knew Neveah would be happy to
blame the mess on her, to complain to the grandparents that Ellie
was not doing her part to help the family. The grandparents would
believe Neveah. They always did.
    Grumbling under her breath, Ellie went
inside to get a garbage bag from under the sink. Neveah followed
her inside. Her smirk was wicked as she passed Ellie in the kitchen
on her way upstairs.
    It took Ellie the rest of the early
morning to pick up the garbage and return the house to normal. By
dawn, she was trembling from exhaustion, but she was happy to be
finished with her work. It meant she could go back to the shack,
rest a moment, and finish her healing craft. It was possible she
could finish her craft before the grandparents came over and
demanded she visit with them. It also meant she could continue
doing something forbidden, terrifying and exhilarating. It was
rebellion against Neveah, even if Neveah never found out about
it.
    When Ellie got back to the shack, the
man was no longer on the sofa. He was on the floor, near the door.
His hand clutched at his recently healed side. The back of his head
was still covered in blood.
    Ellie thought she understood how he
had gotten there. He had tried to escape but had fallen back into
unconsciousness before he could get out. Some of her books had
fallen with his attempt to escape. A few had fallen on top him. Her
coffee table was on its side. She waved a hand at the books and the
table. The books flew off him and stacked in the corner again as
the table righted itself. She waved another hand to light the
candles. A final quick wave of her hand put him back on the
sofa.
    He moaned when she set him down, and
his eyes opened briefly. His eyes were a warm brown, different from
the greens and blues of her