“Tell me a story. Pa, tell me a story, go on….”
The whine seemed to entice the impressive stained windows to life. Fain’s flint grey eyes rose hesitantly to meet their looming gaze, cautious, tentative. Weak rays of light edged the vivacious colours as they sprang and leapt at him like unleashed animals, savage, clawing relentlessly at his eyes, imprinting their evocative identities – the rich, hot reds, the yellow which exuded a wealth beyond measure, and all around surrounded by the cool, silky, turquoise that seemed to sing a song of adventure, of life.
“There will be no more stories…”
Copyright: Victoria O