Friday, May 13, 2016

100 Words a Day 850

The itinerate parked his wagon with its clockwork steed on the village green. Strings of shells, bells, and chimes hung on the eve of the thing’s roof, sounding with the wind. When they had heard the clinking, the children had dropped their chores and rushed to meet the wagon. They buzzed as they waited for the occupant to emerge. When the children’s eagerness was making them bounce up and down, the rear door opened. A large, billowing cloak the color of shadow emerged, causing the children to gasp. The cloak threw back its hood, revealing the face of an elf.

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