main index Narrative
|
It was a cold dawn in
Alberta, where the
Morning frosts had just begun to settle under
Nighttime's blanket. In a small cabin in the taiga,
A man stirred awake, bleary-eyed and cold.
Colour had left his cheeks, relic of restless sleep.
Kindling was lit and the fireplace roared to life,
Embers crackling as last night's images played in his head.
Dreams were overrated.
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Privacy Policy
31