On a day when the expected meets the unlikely….. Perhaps the repercussions of the butterfly’s wing is underestimated
November 1951 – Whistleberry Crescent, Whitehill, Hamilton
The eyes had it; so often romantically clichéd as ‘the windows to the soul, they also projected the more sinister darkness of an unfeeling amoral heart!
With a powdering of an early ground frost, the black curtain of the sky overhead was dotted with brilliant stars and a silver moon bright enough to cast shadows. The eyes squinted and peered through the glass, cleared by a cloudy breath and the wipe of a glove.
The reflection of his heart bounced off the dark interior behind the wooden-framed window serving only to accentuate a mixture of desperation and lost self-respect. Selfish inhumanity had won out either through the necessity for food and survival, or simply a cold ruthlessness to have what was not his. This time however the fangs of fate readied their bite and venom.
His antennae quivered and tuned in for signs…
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