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Weekly Contest #365
There was a pouring day. Rain was kissing the windowpane. It did not merely fall, but incessantly set the percussive rhythm, that seemed to demand attention. The sky was colored like bruised plum, hanging low over the local architecture of McFanry’s manor. A surge that would leave the city blind. All inhabitants of Sheffield thought the blackout was coming. But they were wrong. The darkness they feared was non-electrical in nature. Mr. McFanry and his daughter Elizabeth were outside of their house. His little daughter was struggling from epi...
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