One drop amongst the millions that has fallen down and wasted away the dust that winter has sown, landed to the lanes of this quiet little place. Stranger walking past the church yard looking even stranger on his long, grey over coat, felt hat and a rucksack lazily popping on his right shoulder. There is a church, hidden behind the hedges, small, grey and sturdy looking old building, stones upon one another, laid there many hundred years ago. The man stops, turns to look at it, scratches his head the hat now on his hand, revealing his golden hair, that looks to be curling under this rainy day. He tries the gate towards the church, but does not enter. "Not this time, not now,later" he thinks. He goes down a small hill, leading towards another one in distance. And behind that hill, he thinks...and sets on walking, stubborny, pushing against the now drizlier rain. Oak trees are standing barren, it is late spring, still the first daffodilss are out, brightening the road sides with their yellow blooming.
This is a little bit of the novel, it is only at the very start of it. Just to practise and probs there a few grammar mistakes there as well, but hey, this is the way learning as well. ;-)
To be continued...
No comments:
Post a Comment