Sarah awoke in the darkness to the measured breathing of her two sleeping sisters, Abigail and Emily. She heard no distant voices from the village hall, which indicated that the last of the adults had gone to bed for the night. Nor did she hear the early-morning lowing of the cows anticipating their pre-dawn milking. This was the true middle of the night – that still, quiet time when the world seems to be holding its breath before awakening with the new day.
Poems, stories, and scraps — both new and old. [☆ = best stuff] [CLASSIC = written long ago]