The Sunday Whirl

The sky held the image of a huge ghost-like mouth accompanied by the boom of thunder. I was never afraid of thunder before but this spring the storms seemed louder and even ominous. Birds fluttered away from their nests to take cover in the bushes. Rodents were scuffling to find a sheltering hole to crawl into. As I hurried inside my door at last, my temples were bursting, my steps weaving and I plopped down on the nearest chair. The air was thick with unexplainable fear. I think I’ve been reading too many Stephen King stories!

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