Homecoming
David J.Wing
Crows called from the trees above as she stepped amongst the moss and the broken branches. Her feet, never the most stealthy, gave out a warning cry. As she approached the clearing the thatched cottage stood solitary, aching for companionship. She stopped at the gnarled gate and watched the torn lace curtains flicker.
A gust?
The path stretched out in front, pulling away and falling forward in a visual taunt. The air stiffened and the sky closed fast.
Her arthritic hand reached forth to tap the oaken door.
A creak,
a sigh,
a crack of light,
an axe to fright.
