Howling Wind

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Farmer’s market.

The wind is howling. Banners flap while ears of corn tumble off tables and vendors scowl skywards.

The market is almost empty, but four little girls – strangers to each other – huddle on a picnic bench against the wind.

They are listening to a story.

They are running through meadows filled with poisoned blue flowers while witches decimate mountains and all of the fish can talk.

Their parents whisper pleas to head home, but the four little girls shake their heads.

They are climbing the tallest trees.
They are learning to use their wings.
They are battling the dragons.

They have to know what happens at the end.

Photo Anita

Musings and overheard conversations are posted every Monday and Wednesday on tyrtle.com.