I woke up at the crack of dawn as usual, hungry, grumpy, morose. The extended winter had not been kind to me and my family. The fields were frozen, and nothing could grow on them. All we could do was pray, and hope, that at least some of us would be able to make it through the day.
Many hadn’t, like my brother, and my daughter. We’d mourned for them, and then moved on. Life was much too short, and much too fickle, to spend on fretting about the past. We had the future of those who’d survived to think of.
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About Sue Vincent
Sue Vincent is a Yorkshire-born writer and one of the Directors of
The Silent Eye, a modern Mystery School. She writes alone and with
Stuart France, exploring ancient myths, the mysterious landscape of Albion and the inner journey of the soul. Find out more at
France and Vincent. She is owned by a small dog who also blogs.
Follow her at
scvincent.com and on Twitter
@SCVincent. Find her books on
Goodreads and follow her on
Amazon worldwide to find out about new releases and offers. Email: findme@scvincent.com
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Sue Vincent's Daily Echo 