StormWeaver- 10 – Flowers in the House

I pick up the grey stone. The hail pelts us still. They began pea sized, but they grow. “Come with me.” I grab the young woman’s hand. To my house in the hill, We go. Slipping and sliding on the ice, Till I push my door open,And my house is filled,With people.And the cat.The ice … Continue reading StormWeaver- 10 – Flowers in the House