Every Sunday, I will attempt to share six sentences from the current WIP.
We went down the passage to the nursery, and Noel peeked in.
“There’s no fairy light,” he murmured and pushed the door open, then muttered, “Christ,” and went into the room.
“What is it?” I whispered, my eyes not yet adjusted to the dark. “Noel?”
“Malcolm, turn on the light,” Noel said in a tight voice, so I reached into the room to find the light switch.
The bed was empty.