I arose from my slumber to the caws of the ravens and a scent reminiscent of fall, i smelt the wafting scent of rye bread in the air, i slipped out of my quilt its been passed down generation to generation, Wright to Wright, i slipped my cedar brown boots onto my feet, grabbed my glasses, and headed downstairs. my grandmother greeted me with a warm smile “good morrow Leif” she set a bowl on the table “here’s your porridge” she smiled and tuned her focus back to baking the bread, i sat down “can you believe its almost 1695 I remember being born in 1617 i though id be dead by now” grandmother blurted, i slurped my porridge and tried to not think about how i could lose grandmother and be sent onto an orphan train i heard a startling noise “knock knock”
ns 15.158.61.51da2
Penana
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