True Story

It was a dark and stormy night.

Outside, the wind howled as the water sheeted down, creating a series of small lakes amongst the low points in the yard. The wind chimes rattled, high tones contrasting sharply with the bass grumble of the thunder coming ever closer. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, growing increasingly worried that the power might shut off at any minute halting his progress. The house was old as it was, built in the 1920s and inherited from his grandparents.  Probably better to try a different tack.

It was a bright Sunday afternoon.

The sun pierced through the window in front of him, intense but warm.  From a distance, he could here the faint peal of the bells from St. Catherine’s signaling freedom. Better, he thought as he took a sip of ice tea from his glass before continuing on with the story.


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