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Weekly Contest #58
The door to my room flew open but I did not look up. It was just a dream. There my mother stood a torch in her hand. She was wearing an apron and smelt distantly of warm baked goods. Somewhere inside the house, my brother was playing chess with my father. Both of them sipping tea from large mugs and nibbling lightly on cookies. They would be irritated that the lights had gone out. My father would curse and sigh and my brother would soon throw himself on my bed and break out into a long rant like he always. But, the house was silent. It was n...
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