HeresJohnny
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UNDER EARL’S BRIDGE
The rabid determined howling of the dog told Vladimir that if he did not turn back down the winding path he would be made.
However, the dim light of the town down from the path told him that he would be sandwiched by the authorities if he turned back that a ways.
Hence, he ran up the path to Earls bridge. At this hour, he didn’t see Balforth anywhere about it. He propped himself onto the sidewall of the bridge and jumped feet first into the canal below
The canal snaked about 200 meters in either direction from where he now stood under the bridge. It was void of water. Only mud, stone and various other earwigs and snails crawled therein.
he knew the dog would likely sniff him out if he stayed near, so he ran down the canal in a jiffy, his feet and hands cold from the air and his face green with anxiety.
He heard the same footsteps. An absolutely rabid and devilish pattern of steps rapidly advancing at foot level in the canal. He crouched, at this point. Accepting his fate. Everyone would know his secret. His true identity.
Was it the the dog? Was it the old ghosts of Turkish soldiers that haunted the canal from medieval times?
It didn’t matter. He simply stayed there crouched for minutes, or was it half an hour, he couldn’t tell. Then there was silence, and relief washed over him. The stiffness that had shot up his spine was completely gone. He made it back to his manor by morning. It was all okay.
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