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The dark clouds came swirling, rather ominously, across the sky. On the parched soil, a feeble sapling raised its head, looking above, waiting for rain. The street children danced gleefully with the roar of the crashing thunder.

There were those who felt the rain, and there were the others who just got wet, running for cover. From my window, I witnessed a burst of happiness as the downpour came heavily upon one and all.

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(This week, I’m  writing for the prompt ‘witness’, linking this with #FiveSentenceFiction hosted by Vinitha every Tuesday @ thevoidthoughts.com. Feel free to join in by clicking on this link and leave your link in the comments section.)

medieval1

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