Horrible Harvest

Night come and I moved away from the fire. Allison had fount a heavy sleep and was curled up on a blanket a good bit back from the crackling flames. I made a trek along the mucked-up path and stood atop a knoll that give me a good squirrel-eye’s view of what was left of our old house. It was more rubble than frame and walls, but it wasn’t like Allison had said. It wasn’t time that’d broke it asunder. It was the fury of the winds all those years ago.  The storm come and it took me from this place. A thing I was both grateful and resentful for. If it’d landed me in a better place, I’d’ve been forever a worshipper of the winds. Instead, it just moved me from one side of hell to the other.

Something give a swoosh sound overhead, and I watched as an osprey fought a pocket of rough air and tilted up before diving under it and soaring to a treetop at the edge of the woods. The sleek raptor give me a glare ‘fore it lost interest in me and fixed its eyes on running the waters of the river, looking for prey in the dark of night.

I turnt back to the wreckage and debris that had once been the center of my life and lost myself in the final days of its existence.