When the Wind Blows
“She wished she were downstairs. There were lots of rooms on the second floor—why couldn’t she have one of them? Why did she have to stay up here?A wave of loneliness swept over Christie. She got out of bed and went to the window. The night was clear, and she could see the mountains glowing in the moonlight. Below her, in the chicken coop, the hens were clucking softly in their sleep, the sound clearly audible in the still night air.She turned away from the window and looked around the nursery. ...She hated it. It smelled sour, and always there were noises in the walls—scufflings and scratchings that she was sure were rats. She dreamed about them sometimes, seeing their yellow eyes glowing in the darkness, brown teeth dripping saliva. Just thinking about them made her snatch up one of the stuffed animals and scurry back to bed. The toy was no comfort to her; it was musty and felt dead, and what she wanted was something alive.The chicks.Maybe she could sneak one of the chicks up to her room.She put on her bathrobe and a pair of sneakers.MoreLess
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