Table of Contents

New Neighbors by Robin Abess
Untitled by Sheilagh Lee
Untitled by J M Blackman
Untitled by H. L. Pauff
PROTOTYPE by David A Ludwig
Untitled by Rebekah Postupak
Untitled by Alissa Leonard
Untitled by Ryan Strohman
Untitled by Marie Frizelle
Untitled by Nellie
Untitled by Cara Michaels

Judge's Notes

I’ve read all of the stories several times, and enjoyed each and every one. I’m always so amazed, and slightly intimidated, by the sheer volume of talent I see here. Great job, everyone!

Some of the stories really spoke to me; they were inspiring and full of awesomeness. I loved J.M. Blackman’s story, especially how she kissed him – only to pull the trigger. Ryan Strohman took me by surprise with his technological invention, and I really enjoyed the strong and lively characters.

Honorable Mentions

Alissa Leonard:
It takes a lot of skill to create such a mess, induce so much panic; and, have it come out eloquent and understandable while using the language in the way you did. I very much enjoyed it.

Cara Michaels:
From the beginning of the story, I felt committed to it. I knew the smells, the scenery, the rising panic and uncertainty. The how, why and who kept me interested, and I would have continued reading if there had been more.


by Marie Frizelle

Well, that was unexpected.

The wind blew through the back screen door, knocked over my easel, spilled paint all over my carpet and ruined my painting. I’ve been working on that for months.

Wretched wind.

I got up and slammed the door shut, breaking a nail in the process. On my way back to my work, I stepped on one of the brushes in my bare feet, the surprise of it making me hop onto the other foot.
The ungainly movement tipped me in the direction of the china hutch, which broke what would have been my fall and also many of my teacups. Covington Court was a hard to come by and expensive pattern.

Damn wind.

Leaning over to right my easel, I bumped my head on the corner of the end table next to the couch, which toppled my now deceased parents wedding photo. The face-forward fall broke the glass, a shard of which left a huge gouge in the photo. It’s irreplaceable.

Stupid effing wind!

I sat down on the couch, took a deep breath and closed my eyes. From the backyard came a soft tinkling sound, a wind-chime made by my daughter for Mother’s Day when she was twelve. The sound washed over me, reminding me of her laughter and suddenly I no longer cared about the carnage in my living room.

Beautiful wind.

Judge's Comment:
I think this is a beautiful story; it shows daily life at its worst, but also life at its best. A lot of people can, and will, relate to the sensation of everything going wrong; and, the irritation of it happening. At the same time, it all vanishes due to one of life’s greatest gifts; motherhood. Great work!

There is was a Cracked(r) or Mad(r) Magazine spoof many decades ago of the 1985 movie "Cocoon" In one panel the young man spying on a hot girl changing, says "Take it off"   She takes her face off.

Some times things are not received in the way we expect and the behavior of others can baffle.  I'm feeling a little silly this week so feel free to be as campy or as serious as you want to be with the prompt.


This week's judge is the amazing Chessny Silth.

Happily newlywed, with two hysterical Budgies. Former martial artist, almost-journalist as a result from Broadcast Journalism (England), and now a housewife with an urge to have everything in its place. Mostly occupied by an overwhelming urge to write, read and learn.

Currently working on a YA fantasy trilogy, and having a hard time making the trolls, goblins and mermaids see eye to eye.

The Prompt

Well, that was unexpected

The Rules

  1. The story must start from the prompt.  This means the prompt must be the
    first words in the story.
  2. No more than 500 words (not including the prompt).  No less than 100 words.
  3. Any genre (in fact an unexpected genre will get you more points.)
  4. Entries must be submitted by Tuesday Noon EST
  5. The winner of each week's competition will be invited to judge the following week and post the winner's badge similar to the one on the right.
  6. Have fun!

Silly Sample

Seinen… Sorta
By Wakefield Mahon

" Well that was unexpected!"

Hiro coughed up blood as Onee-sama sank her sword deep in his belly.


Hiro walked home with his friends from New Tokyo High School. 

“Hey Hiro, why do we always walk home with Hime-dono?  I think she scares all of the boing-boing away,” Baka-chan said indicating large breasts with his hands.
Hime, hit Baka in the head with her book bag.  “As class president, it’s my job to keep you from getting your fellow classmate in trouble.”

Hiro shrugged and grinned sheepishly.  He wasn’t looking where he was going and run into a girl, who wasn’t paying attention either.  Hiro fell on top of the girl accidently touching her oversized breasts.

“Two points for Hiro!” Baka yelled.

Hime hit him with her books again.

Hiro helped the girl up and apologized profusely to the girl who apologized just as profusely.

Hime immediately dislikes the girl.  Meanwhile, a mysterious girl watched from the shadows.

Onee-sama asks Hiro why he was so late coming home, she already has dinner and his bath ready.  His big sister has been acting as a surrogate since their parents are away on business.

“What are you doing Onee-sama?”

“You smell like… you’ve been with a girl”

Hiro waved his hands. “No, no it’s nothing like that. I just ran into someone on accident.”

Angelica, the girl Hiro ran into, joined the school as a transfer student the next day.

As the four of them are walking home the next day, a limousine pulls up and a beautiful girl steps out, immediately smitten with Hiro.  Hime laments Hiro’s growing harem while the mysterious girl frowns in the shadows.

Okane, the rich girl joins the school as a transfer student the next day, followed the following week by the mysterious girl, Iroke.

Okane invites all of the friends to go to her father’s private beach where they play in the water and Hiro teaches, shy Iroke how to swim.

They all go to the hot springs.  The girls compare breast sizes. Baka tries to sneak a peek, but Hiro gets blamed earning him a frying pan from Hime.  While he’s out, she says “Why can’t you just be mine?”

In a quiet moment, both Angelica and Hiro reveal they can’t remember their past

Iroke is supposed to be a succubus but she’s flat-chested and shy.  Her older sister, a big-bosomed loud drunkard of a woman prods her to awaken Hiro before Angelica gets to him. 


Hiro is six years old. A girl whose face he couldn’t quite remember kisses him.  “We’re bound together forever.  Please love only me!”


Hiro assumes Angelica must be the girl from his one memory and asks her to go out with him during the Tanbata festival


“As a shrine priestess, it is my sacred duty to save the world, should the demon in you arise”

Tears streamed down her face as Hiro slumped to over.  “I... I loved you Hiro-kun!  I told you to only love me.”

502 very ineligible very silly words.

Two points if you can guess which anime/manga inspired this story.  Three points if you can name ten anime with almost the exact same plot ;)

Table of Contents

Untitled by David A Ludwig
* Untitled by LE Jamez
Untitled by Charles W Jones
*Untitled by H. L. Pauff
Bridges by Jeffrey Hollar
Untitled by Mark Etheridge
Untitled by Lisa McCourt Hollar
Untitled by Rebekah Postupak
Ghosts of the Past by Chessny Silth
The Meeting by Robin Abess
Untitled by Nellie

* Debut entry

Judges Comments

Another great round of stories by lots of talented writers. I’m
always so amazed by how clever everyone is. Great job!

Some of the more memorable stories include:

H. L. Pauff, who had me laughing at the depiction of a janitor
thinking he’s opening a door labeled Muffin Lab. Muffin Lab?!? Great

Jeffrey Hollar’s tale of a man asking for forgiveness at the end of
his life. Very touching and, once again, supremely eloquent.

Mark Ethridge’s action-packed tale of trans-universal baddies coming
through a mistakenly opened door. I love a good sci-fi action romp.

Honorable Mention

Honorable Mention goes to Lisa McCourt Hollar, who once again impresses with a story that completely surprised me. The entire time I was expecting the main character to get caught by her unreasonable
jerk of a boss, but then things get a whole lot worse for poor Joanne.



I love this story, mostly because the main character’s torment is both mental and physical, and even though the doctor seems to think she’s delusional and still needs to recover from the trauma, she knows better.  And then the ghosts encourage her to join them.  Sad, but at the same time uplifting.  Incredible story!

Ghosts of the Past
by Chessny Silth

“If I hadn’t opened that door, I wouldn’t be in this mess,” I said, and ran a hand through my hair.

After twelve months I still felt uncomfortable talking about it, even though Steven; my therapist, insisted it was good for me. My nails were barely existent, and the circles under my eyes were now a dominant feature on my face.

“You saved countless lives, and they will be forever grateful,” Steven argued, his tone a mild rebuke.
I shook my head. “What about those who didn’t make it? The ones who were shot?” I countered, and that was the core of the matter; the ones who died.
“They would have died regardless, because of the bomb; I’m positive they would understand – if they could speak to you,” he replied, and we approached my ‘illness’.
“I don’t care what you say, they still blame me – regardless if you see them or not; I do,” I said, and narrowed my eyebrows.

I glanced over my shoulder and looked in her eyes: the eight year old girl who’d been shot in the chest. She was still crying, always those silent tears that judged me and my decision.
Her brother, who was older, kept throwing rocks at me; though they never actually hit it still felt horrible.
I shook my head and bit off a piece of my nail, it started bleeding.

“Rebecca, they’re not there. It’s all in your head,” he said, and then he closed his notebook. “Perhaps it’s time we talked about different kinds of treatment.”
“You mean an institution,” I edited, my voice sour. I couldn’t imagine anything worse than sitting in a white room surrounded by eleven angry ghosts.
“We’re not getting anywhere, and you cannot continue like this. I think we’ve reached the end of our road.”

I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. Twelve months ago, we’d all been taken hostage at the bank. Twelve months ago, I’d managed opening the back-door and get most people out. They had a bomb attached to one of the hostages, and they had guns. Eleven people were shot to death once they realized what I’d done; and then the bomb went off.

“I’ll find a way to make it right,” I said as the egg-timer went off – announcing our time together was over.

I unfastened the breaks on my wheelchair and started towards the door. “Don’t do anything stupid, Becca,” Steven said.
“I won’t,” I replied, and gave him a lopsided smile.

As I waited for the elevator I looked in the mirror. Two missing legs, three missing fingers, and that’s only what was visible. My whole body was covered in burns; I had no life – not anymore.

The young girl who always cried put her hand on my shoulder. Join us, her lips read, and it wasn’t the first time.

Perhaps it is time, I thought, as this life holds nothing for me anymore. I made my decision, and now all I needed was a plan.


Anthology News

The guidelines for the new Song Story Anthology are posted here.  I would love to have some of my faithful participants featured in the collection.  Deadline is Dec 1, 2012.

Before I saw "Emma" one of the movies that prompted me to start reading Jane Austen, I discovered Gwyneth Paltrow in the movie "Sliding Doors".  A surreal contemplation on parallel universes, entirely too dark for the "romantic comedy" tag many critics gave it.

There are pivotal moments in our life.  We may not know it at the time, but our entire life changed because of a single decision we made or failed to make.

What would happen if your main character had made a different choice?  Would their life be better or worse?  Or would it simply be different?  Is the door figurative or literal?

According to the old saw, "Hindsight is 20/20."  What would we do differently if we could see the multiverse of possibilities before us?


This week's judge, Ryan Strohman won twice in the last three weeks.  Let's find out a little more about him:

Author of techno-thriller novels Project Utopia and Paradox, IT
operative, overweight runner and martial artist, proud papa, and all
around cool guy.

I'll be releasing my latest finished novel, Terminal Restraint, in the
next few weeks as an eBook. In Terminal Restraint, life was going
well for Cole Pierce. He had a decent IT job, a great group of
friends, and was about to propose to his beautiful girlfriend. But
after a series of unfortunate events puts him at jeopardy of losing
his job, and then a black magic spell cast on him by one of his
friends goes awry, his whole world is turned upside down. And it only
gets worse from there as he’s brutally attacked in his own home by an
unarmed intruder—taking him to the brink of death…or beyond. Follow
the action as Cole tries to understand what has happened to him and
put his life back together in this supernatural thriller.


If [I/you/he/she/they] hadn't opened that door

The Rules

  1. The story must start from the prompt.  This means the prompt must be the
    first words in the story.
  2. No more than 500 words (not including the prompt).  No less than 100 words.
  3. Any genre (in fact an unexpected genre will get you more points.)
  4. Entries must be submitted by Tuesday Noon EST
  5. The winner of each week's competition will be invited to judge the following week and post the winner's badge similar to the one on the right.
  6. Have fun!

We asked for unexpected and our writers delivered fifteen stories from the silly to the sad to the scary.  Judge Lisa McCourt Hollar had as challenging a week as any.  This week's authors hail from all around the world.  Find out more about them:

Conflict (ineligible) by Wakefield Mahon
Afterlife (ineligible) by Lisa McCourt Hollar
Untitled by Ryan Strohman
Untitled by Rafe B
Untitled by Charles W Jones
*The Price of Failure by Bronwyn Sciance
The Spider Jeopardy by S Jayanth
Curl Up and Dye by Robin Abess
Untitled by Chessny Silth
*My Silver Lining by Graeme Clark
Fever Dream by David A Ludwig
Untitled by Cara Michaels
Untitled by Mark Etheridge
Badges and Burdens by Jeffrey Hollar
Rob’s Train of Thought by Khurshid Khatib

* Debut entry

Read all of the stories

Honorable Mentions

Curl Up and Dye
by Robin Abess

Robin’s ending to this story had me cracking up. I wondered when I was reading it, if they dye job was over jealousy, but I wasn’t expecting the payback.

"Fever Dream"
by David A Ludwig

It’s the last line that did it for me. So much went through my mind when I read that. If David were to decide to extend the story, I am sure it would be truly chilling.


I love hoarders. Watching it makes me want to clean, so I don’t end up on the show, with my family saying, “We never saw it coming.” Ryan took hoarding to a whole new level. I would want to see this show. Great job!

By Ryan Strohman

“How did you expect her to react, Mom?”

The elderly woman was silent, watching her youngest daughter doubled over, retching in the driveway. Patricia knew this wasn’t going to be easy on any of them, including her mother and her younger sister, Erin, but it had to be done.

The city had called Patricia earlier in the week saying the house would be condemned unless immediate action was taken. And she was surprised that it had taken them this long. The house, from the outside, appeared mostly normal save for the numerous plastic containers on the front porch and a few bad spots in the front and back yards.

But inside was a completely different story.

Her mother’s downward spiral of self-loathing and guilt, piled on by years of failed relationships and marriages, were most likely to blame. Mom had become a hoarder, refusing to let go of anything that she acquired. She also, apparently, hadn’t paid for or used a garbage man in quite some time as well. Garbage littered the floor from one end of the house to the other and, in certain spots, rose to over three or four feet high.

It hadn’t helped that both Patricia and Erin lived several states away. And Mom would always visit them, always saying her house was a mess and that she’d feel more comfortable traveling. Patricia hadn’t actually seen her childhood home for five or six years, and Erin even longer. They had no idea it had come to this.

Aside from years of trash, the noxious smell of garbage and rot and death of one unfortunate animal or another was completely overwhelming. And the house was filled with cockroaches and rats. When Erin had attempted passage into the kitchen, climbing over refuse and risking her life, at least a handful of the disgusting, disease-spreading bugs crawled onto her hand, sending her reeling back and out the door. Patricia thought her sister was acting a bit overdramatic, but then again, this was all so emotional.

How had her mother allowed herself to slip so low? Patricia just hoped the therapist would be able to help. They could clean it up, sure, but without treating whatever disease her mom had, it’d just end up that way again.

Erin was crying, and Patricia walked over to console her. Her younger sister just stared back at her mother with anger and contempt.

“Erin, it will be OK. We’ll get it cleaned up, and we’ll get Mom help.”

“You don’t understand, Patricia. The mess, the bugs, the rats—none of that matters.”

“I know,” replied Patricia, rubbing her sister’s back.

“No you don’t! You don't! Did you even go into the kitchen? You have no idea!”

“I didn’t, no, but I figured it was just as bad as the other rooms.”

“Patricia! They are in there! Bill, Greg, Richard. Dad! They didn’t leave her! Dad didn’t abandon us! Their mummified bodies are all in there, sitting in chairs at the kitchen table!”

There are times when dealing with those pesky humans that we find their expectations are so contradictory to our own, we wonder whether we live on the same planet.  My theory has always been that reality is entirely subjective and each of us lives in our own little universe.

The reason I have good ol' Randy Travis serenading you is because I am planning an anthology based on songs.  I've already If I detect some interest, I will open the anthology to my loyal writers and readers first before opening the anthology to the general public.  Contact me if this is something you'd be interested in.  Also let me know if you'd be willing to participate in a #MotivationMonday Anthology
Now, on to the contest!

The Judge

One of my favorite writers and contest hosts has won the right to judge, after writing a gripping story last week,  so bring your "A" game.

Lisa McCourt Hollar resides in Ohio with her husband and children. You can read her bolg, Jezri's Nightmares, at Her short stories and collections are available on Amazon, B&N, Kobo and Smashwords. She is currently working on her first novel.

The Prompt

How did you expect [me/us/them/her/him] to react?

The Rules

  1. The story must start from the prompt.  This means the prompt must be the
    first words in the story.
  2. No more than 500 words (not including the prompt).  No less than 100 words.
  3. Any genre (in fact an unexpected genre will get you more points.)
  4. Entries must be submitted by Tuesday Noon EST
  5. The winner of each week's competition will be invited to judge the following week and post the winner's badge similar to the one on the right.
  6. Have fun!

Sample Story

By Wakefield Mahon

How did you expect her to react?  It doesn’t matter who started the fight.  It always starts over something trivial.  You know she’s not the rational one, but instead of defusing the situation, you have to stoke the flames.

I WAS the one who through the cat at her when she wouldn’t stop screaming.  It wasn’t until after she threw the cat at the wall and I screamed at her for abusing the cat that I realized just how irrational I was being.  I finally realized I should apologize before things got even more out of hand.

Unfortunately, she disappeared.  I spun around at the sound of metal against metal.  She carried two swords in the room and tossed one to, or rather at me.

“Let’s settle this once and for all!”  She spat more than spoke.

I lifted my sword and did the only rational thing that came to mind.  I ran the sword through my own belly.

@Wakefield Mahon
159 ineligible words from a dream I had two nights ago.  

(Feel free to psychoanalyze or to pontificate on whether dreams should be made into stories)

Another week of amazing entries.  Some of the most evocative and provocative stories yet.  Let's give another thanks to our judge Ryan Strohman! And now the stories:

Untitled by Sheilagh Lee
For Always by Stevie McCoy
Untitled by Lupus Anthropos
From The Ashes Arisen by Jeffrey Hollar
Untitled by David A Ludwig
Untitled by Chessny Silth
Untitled by Rebecca Postupak
Untitled by: Alissa Leonard
Fires of Love by Robin Abbess
Burning Evil by Lisa McCourt Hollar

Judges Notes

This was a difficult decision, and I’m usually not indecisive. Everyone had great stories. These are the ones that really shined for me:

I loved LupusAntropos’s surprise at the end. Despite the author and his penchant for anthropomorphism, I didn’t see that one coming.

David Ludwig’s tale reminded me of one of my favorite novels, Year Zero by Jeff Long, although David’s characters were a bit more intriguing and left me wanting more. This story could potentially be a great novel.

Alissa’s tale was great as well, reminding me a bit of the ill-fated Heroes television show from a few years ago. Awesome stuff!

Honorable Mentions

Jeffrey Hollar wowed me with his wonderful writing—so much so that I even had to look a word’s meaning up in the dictionary—and his story of walking away from abuse was exquisitely and dually horrifying and moving. For that he gets an honorable mention.

I loved Robin Abess’s tale. Like Jeffrey Hollar’s, she wrote about walking away from an abusive relationship, but the “fiery wreckage” was both symbolic and literal as we learned at the end, and the fact that Annie’s love/addiction to her husband, despite the years of abuse, led her back into the fire was a great twist. Robin receives an honorable mention as well.


And finally we come to Lisa McCourt Hollar’s story. It takes a lot to send a shiver up my spine, but burning your evil offspring made me cringe. I have an overly rambunctious three-year-old AND a pregnant wife, so this one hit a little too close to home. Kudos (I think) to Lisa for her winning story! Now don’t scare me like that again!

Burning Evil
By Lisa McCourt Hollar

Hannah stumbled away from the fiery wreckage, a blast of hot air searing at her back as one more explosion erupted. Falling to the ground, she looked back at the home she had shared with her family for the past seven years. She and Don had bought it and moved in right after their wedding. No Honeymoon… she was already eight months pregnant with John and not in the mood for travel.

Around her, people screamed, pointing at the house and gasping in horror. John, whose seventh birthday is tomorrow, stood at the window, engulfed in flames. Someone put their arms around Hannah, trying to pull her farther from the inferno, but she yanked free and stood, watching her son. The same person that had tried to pull Hannah away now yelled at her that she shouldn’t be seeing this, as if she could just look away; as if she could avoid the outcome of what she had done.

John had always been a willful child. At first Hannah had thought it was because he was a boy. Her own brothers’ had been obstinate, so she wasn’t worried. If she stuck to her guns, eventually he would become the obedient child she knew he could be.

His behavior got worse and over the years she had shed many tears over his behavior. When she found their dog dead, John standing over the body, she knew he had killed him. When the neighbor’s cat disappeared, she had no delusions that he was innocent. When little Katie Thompson went missing last week, she had hoped he was. Then she found Katie’s underwear under John’s mattress. She wanted to deny it. She asked John about them, but he didn’t answer her, pretending she wasn’t even in the room.
She showed the underwear to her husband.

“Hannah, John could have gotten those anywhere; don’t go borrowing trouble assuming they belong to Katie.”

“But Don, they have her name written in them.”

“Maybe he found them.”

“We should call the police.”

“Didn’t I just say not to go borrowing trouble?”

Hannah relented and kept quiet. A few days later, a smell led her to their basement where she found Katie. John was there with her…doing things to her body no seven year old should be doing to anyone’s body, let alone a corpse.

Don still wanted her to be quiet.

“They will take him away Hannah. Do you want to see our son put behind bars? They treat seven year olds like adults in cases like this.”

“But Don, he’s sick. He needs help.”

“He needs us, Hannah.”

She didn’t know how John knew, but she was pregnant again. She’d found the pictures in her room that he had drawn, Mommy with a swollen belly and a knife sticking out of her. Another of a baby, its arms ripped off and being devoured by Johnny. He was evil and now, watching her son burn, Hannah knew she had done the right thing.

Last week's winner wanted to see your take on this prompt and I agreed so here we go without further ado

The Judge

"Author of techno-thriller novels Project Utopia and Paradox, IT
operative, overweight runner and martial artist, proud papa, and all
around cool guy." I've also lately been addicted to claw/crane

I have a bunch of material in the works, but I don't really have
anything ready to promote at the moment other than my blog,, which is a hodgepodge of ranting and
raving about life, parenting, writing, etc.

The Prompt

"[She/He] stumbled away from the fiery wreckage"

Here's some food for thought:
  • Is the wreckage literal or figurative?
  • Did she cause the flame or did something or someone else?
  • How does she feel about the incident?
You have 500 words, show us something we've never seen before!

The Rules

  1. The story must start from the prompt.  This means the prompt must be the
    first words in the story.
  2. No more than 500 words (not including the prompt).  No less than 100 words.
  3. Any genre (in fact an unexpected genre will get you more points.)
  4. Entries must be submitted by Tuesday Noon EST
  5. The winner of each week's competition will be invited to judge the following week and post the winner's badge similar to the one on the right.
  6. Have fun!

Sample Entry

It’s Like Rain
By Wakefield Mahon

She stumbled away from the fiery wreckage, bits of the plane scattered across the field.  Dazed and disoriented, Kyra wandered through row upon row of tall summer corn. It all happened so fast; something like a bolt of lightning rocked the plane and electricity went out.  The section of seats in front of her was ripped out through a gaping hole in the side of the plane.  By the time she heard the first scream, as second explosion engulfed the plane in flames as they hit the ground.  She tried to search for fellow survivors but the searing heat drove her away.

“I need to go back.  Someone might be alive and need my help.” 

She steeled her nerves and returned to the crash site.  With the crops above high her head, she couldn’t see the wreckage. The heat felt like it was coming from every direction, but the blackest smoke came from one particular area and she made her way over passing bits of plane and bits of passenger along the way.

Finally she found  the clearing where most of the corn had burned away.  There is no way anyone else could have survived.  Her throat caught in her chest. 

“Is this what survivor’s guilt feels like?  How did I survive?  I was adopted and I don’t remember my childhood, maybe I’m a superhero.  Maybe a super-villain knew I was on the plane and thought they could take me out.  If I could l fly I wouldn’t have to ride in airplanes.  My first flight is to marry a guy I met on the internet this happens.  It figures.”

Alanis Morrisette’s “Ironic” went through her head and Kyra started laughing.  The smoke from the wreckage turned her laugh into a coughing fit which only made her laugh even more. 

“Man what an idiot, I am.”

She tried to catch her breath and reached down to soothe her aching belly but her hand was blocked by the fuselage. It had pinned her to the ground, crushing her rib cage.  The rain began to fall and Kyra closed her eyes and smiled.

351 Words