When The Wind Blows

Short Story

WHEN THE WIND BLOWS

When I was a child Rock-a-by-baby was my favorite lullaby. It was the most enchanting and beautiful song.

When I heard the song I would envision a woman in a white over-sized Latter Back chair with a gleam in her eyes, she gaze lovingly into her infants face. She would sing Rock-a-by-baby as she slowly rocked her infant to sleep.

One day as an adult I though about the lyrics, Rock-a-by-baby on the three top, when the wind blows the cradle will rock. I had a Chucky Cheese smile on my face.

When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall, my smile diminishes my brows frown heavily. And down will come baby cradle and all.

I was horrified. I could not help but envision a three foot red devil embellished with little pointed horns and a long arrow tail, pitch fork and all. His halo was the skull sign of death.

It’s not likely an infant would survive such an impact. Not so pretty after all is it?

Pritchard