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"Jamwine!" his mother called. "Jamwine it is time for supper".
Down past the pond, a river cracked through the earth and dipped into a wooded hollow. A small plump lad sat at the edge of the bank, sobbing.
From around the bend appeared a woman. Short and ample, her hair a hedge of wild brown curls - beneath them a young round freckled face with walnut eyes.
Standing cross armed, she held back a half smirk and addressed her pouting son. "Jammy I been calling ya now, it's your din gettin cold, up you go!".
"I don't wanna". He scorned.
It was then she noticed a tear in her child's eye.
Kneeling down to the young boys level she spoke softly. "You have to" she said as she lifted him up; "I know it's not easy little Jammy, but you have to push on. We have to push on together".
They left the riverside, walking home hand and hand. Jamwine and his mother departed the glade and entered into the wide yellow field. The evening sky blazed a lustrous cerise as the early evening sun began to swell. The insects buzzed about and the smell of cottage pie began to fill the air as they neared their home.
Jamwine stopped for a moment and looked back over his shoulder as he heard a flock of birds burst out from the brush, silhouetting and spreading into the quiet sky. He thought about how small he felt in the world.
He thought about his Pa, and how much he missed him.
They cleared the top of the mound surrounding their Frogmorton residence revealing a small bump in the dirt that they called home.
Jamwine skipped along the path, swatting flies and mosquitoes from the air.
As they came closer, the swarm thickened. A dreadful droning buzz filled the air.
"Mammy!" Jamwine called through the suffocating black hissing cloud. "Mam where are you?"