I open the pouch.
The brown stone is safe within, not the cause of this trouble.
The floor shakes.
Glass bottles, tea cups, and window latches rattle.
Books topple from the shelf.
Rose picks up her knitting.
The clink of needles lost in the music of a hundred objects jostling.
“Does this happen often?” I ask.
“It’s because of where we live.”
“Where is this?”
Rose looks up at Chloe from her stitches.
“Here is where,” she tells me.
“Is that an answer?”
“It is to someone’s question,” Chloe smiles.
“I’m not someone.”
StormWeaver is a continuing story told in 100 word increments. Read from the beginning by choosing StormWeaver in categories.
Enjoy this maniacal conversation between Rose, Chloe and Adam. What will such talk lead to next? Best, Clare
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