Friday, April 11, 2014

Helping Hand

“David, come see.”

The thunderstorm had passed, leaving in its wake a quenched world glistening with drops of moisture.

Elizabeth squatted at the edge of the yard peering under the rosebush.

“What is it, Elizabeth?”  Her brother asked, annoyance apparent in his voice at having been sent outside to watch his little sister.

He squatted down beside her.  She pointed.


There unmoving in a shallow puddle was a small human form, delicate and fragile with gossamer wings.  David scooped it up, gently drying it with his handkerchief.  The wings flickered and the tiny being sat up, smiled and flew off.

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