As Terah stood as still as a startled rabbit, his brain processed the sound. It had been loud, but not like a gun. He’d heard a sound like it before, but on television, long ago. Following the sharp crack there’d been a concussion of heaviness. A tree had fallen. The weight of the snow had probably broken a large branch nearby. Waiting for his heart to slow down, Terah felt the cold seeping into him. He thought of Mich’s fire in the basement. He had one more side to cover. Around the corner he couldn’t believe his luck. It had been a falling tree. That was plainly obvious now. The trunk had been arrested in its fall by the poured concrete of this fortress. Through its naked branches Terah could see a clerestory window. This was his way back inside. It would be, that is, if he climbed trees. Some kids he knew in his neighborhood scrambled up trees like squirrels. Terah suffered acute ...
Blog of a struggling writer.