The Sunday Whirl

***

Dust stirred up as the family truck skidded to a stop in front of the house. No sign of his honey hued skin and long black hair was visible to them but they knew he had been there.

No books could satisfy the animal hunger their daughter experienced, no movie or television program could do it. When dark clouds and chilled wind blew the silky fronds of the broken milk pods, they knew he would be leaving his lair to come to her again.

They should have checked the weather before they left for town. They rushed in, hoped they were not too late.

***

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