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It was the rain that made him think of the tale. The lash of it battered the windows,
stormed the rooftops and blew its bitter breath under the doors.
The damp ached in his bones even as he settled by the fire. Age sat heavily on him in the
long, wet nights of autumn—and would sit heavier still, he knew, in the dark winter to
come.
The children were gathered, huddled on the floor, squeezed by twos and threes into
chairs. Their faces were turned to his, expectant, for he’d promised them a story to chase
boredom from a stormy day.
He hadn’t intended to give them this one, not yet, for some were so young. And the tale
was far from tender. But the rain whispered to him, hissing the words he’d yet to speak.
Even a storyteller, perhaps especially a storyteller, had to listen.
Morrigan's Cross
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By Noumenon - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0,
https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=6984216
Family Stories to Tell Your Grandchildren Again and Again
Next time your grandchild requests a story, share a personal tale from the heart.
GRANDPARENTS.COM
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When the sun dipped low in the sky, dripping the last of its fire, the children huddled
together to hear the next part of the tale. For the old man, their eager faces and wide eyes
brought the light into the room. The story he’d begun on a rainy afternoon would continue
now, as twilight settled over the land.
The fire crackled in the grate, the only sound as he sipped his wine, as he searched his mind for the right words.
