Prompt: promises, candlelit.
Word count: 250.
I just can’t stop writing horrible stuff. I almost don’t want to post this. It’s inspired by Enid Blyton’s children’s stories…
Two children break the rules in this pre-War era tale…
Betsy lifted the candle on its tray higher, letting its light wash over the cavern. Beside her, Jack squinted in the gloom as the dust swirled and settled. Only a few moments ago they had been squashed together in an alcove, taking shelter as the old mine collapsed. Betsy had burnt her hand sheltering the candle, but she didn’t cry. Big girls don’t cry: besides, it was her idea to explore the old mine. Jack had wanted to play Cowboys and Indians down by the creek again.
“Show me your hand,” Jack said, turning to her. Betsy obliged, and Jack tore off the bottom of his stripey T-shirt to gently wrap the burn.
“There’s no way out, I don’t think,” Betsy whimpered. The candle has already burnt most of the way down as they were exploring. They only had a few minutes of candlelight left – if that.
“Someone will come for us,” Jack said, putting his arm around her in a manner that would normally be considered overly familiar. They were, after all, next-door neighbours and playful rivals. How else were you meant to treat the boy and girl next door?
“No one knows we’re here,” Betsy said. She watched as the light flickered over Jack’s face. “We’re not supposed to come here.”
“I’ll look after you,” Jack said.
“Do you promise?” she asked in a small voice.
“Yes, I promise,” he answered, as the light guttered and went out, plunging them into darkness as the earth swallowed them whole.