Thursday, 15 August 2013

FSF: Fabric

The flickering wick of the oil lamp caused frightening shadows around the ramshackle tent. The five year old pulled the battered blanket over his head. Mommy had said she would be back before nightfall and they'd leave before the agency found them. Now the clouds were thundering and a thousand angry droplets were trying to make their way through the holes in the sheet. He stood up clutching the fabric, and drawing strength from its familiar aroma walked out to search for his only family.

Note: I apologise for being so...absent lately. Things are going to get back to normal now. 

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