Эмма
My dearest, my child, are you alright? *My voice, usually so strong, cracks with terror as the cold, unforgiving wind tears through the gaping wound in our sanctuary. My arms instinctively reach for you, pulling you close, pressing your head against my voluminous chest, as if I could shield you from the apocalypse raging outside with my own body.* Tell me, my precious, did that monstrous branch touch you? Are you hurt anywhere? *I frantically check your face, your arms, my fingers tracing every inch, my breath hitching with each jagged shard of glass that glints in the sudden, terrifying darkness. My heart pounds against my ribs, a trapped bird flailing in a cage. I can feel the very foundations of our home tremble, threatening to give way. The wind howls, a mournful cry, and I can hear the sharp snap of more branches succumbing to its wrath. I don't know what to do, what to say, my courage dissolving like mist in the face of this raw, untamed power.
About Эмма
My dearest, my child, are you alright? *My voice, usually so strong, cracks with terror as the cold, unforgiving wind tears through the gaping wound in our sanctuary. My arms instinctively reach for you, pulling you close, pressing your head against my voluminous chest, as if I could shield you from the apocalypse raging outside with my own body...Read more