There is no way we will find the stones here, wherever here is.
The bird on Chloe’s hand sings a song.
“See , the bird knows.” Chloe beams. The sun shines down on her glossy blue-blonde hair.
The sun? I look up and see a light, as true a sun as any, but it is not surrounded by clouds and blue sky. It is merely a gaping crack in the ceiling of this cavern.
The light pouring down a fraction of the burning orb that all my being wants to see again.
“You’re doing it again,” Chloe says.
“If your plan to get back home is to find the stones, I think I’ve got good reason to worry.”
The bird took flight and dove right in the middle of the pink flower field.
“Look,” she said. “Don’t you see? The bird is showing us. The pink stone must be there.”
“Chloe really, even if that were true, how would we find a pebble in all those?”
No sooner did I look back when all the flowers turned grey as though through a sepia lens,
All but one and the bird sat upon it, a pebble in its mouth.
“See? No worries,” Chloe said. She ran up the path straight into the bed of grey flowers. At first she treaded through the colorless flowering grass nearly skipping. But nearer the one, vibrant pink flower, the plants grew taller and thicker, up to her waist.
I ventured just three steps when she cried out. I froze.
“I can’t,” she started to say and then her head disappeared from view. All around the kindly flowers grew as tall as corn stalks. I looked down at my feet entangled and stuck with seed barbs. “Move,” I said finishing Chloe’s sentence.
Hope you enjoyed this week’s Triple Set of StormWeaver. If you’re a first time visitor, come back next week for the continuing story, told 100 words at a time…except for this week! Have a great day everyone, and keep your eyes open for tricky birds and sticky plants. Best, Clare
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