Tansy Undercrypt
Author, Illustrator, Purveyor of Doom & Whimsy

Wind

January 2nd 2018 in Microfiction

He shut the doors and windows securely against the wind. “I think I could deal with the cold,” Sam said, watching the trees in the yard sway and bend, “if it wasn’t for the wind. I hate the wind.” Roaring northwesterly across the corner lot, the wind threw sticks at the siding and howled down the chimney. “Jeeebus,” Sam said, walking into the kitchen to put the kettle on. The wind, seeing him retreat inside of the house, used the last of its strength to rattle every pane of glass it could reach (in a desperate bid to get his attention). Sam picked up his mug of tea and went into the den, turning the volume up on the television. The wind relented, wishing him well, having done all that she could to warn him that there was someone hiding in the basement.


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