The boy’s small hands clutched the two brown suitcases tightly, his knuckles turning white. Tears streamed down his dusty cheeks, leaving streaks on his skin.
“Go on, out!” the woman’s sharp voice cut through the still country air like a whip.
The little boy’s lips quivered. He turned to look back at the wooden house one more time, hoping—praying—that maybe she’d soften, that maybe she’d remember this was his father’s house too. But her face twisted in cold fury as she pointed toward the dirt road.
“You don’t belong here,” she barked. “Go back to your grandmother where you came from. This isn’t your home anymore.”It hadn’t always been like this. After his mother passed away two years ago, Ethan had been raised by his grandmother in her small, cozy cottage on the other side of the valley.
His father, a successful businessman, visited sometimes, bringing toys, warm hugs, and stories of the world beyond their little town. And sometimes, Ethan would pack his small bag and walk for miles just to surprise his father at this…..Read Full Story Here.…………………..
