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Kin-strife for Christmas
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The Air Full of Eyes

'Tis sunrise when Thrasja finishes sweeping the violin spiders from their nightly webs at the tavern.

Ranilo pays her, presses a kerchief of tavern fare upon her: "For Audila."

Departing, Thrasja walks towards the wharf. Streets monkey through The Bottle; she takes a left when an alley forks.

Lately, she feels the sky too open, the air overbroad, the moon a baleful eye. Desperate times mean thieving; Thrasja fingers the knife in her kirtle. But: There's no one, she thinks.

Still, she pauses watchful at her door. Nothing stirs. Sighing, she goes within to await her brother's return.


Prompt: bottle, wharf, violin, moon, monkey, fork


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