Whistler

by Roger Taylor

  Then he was gone.

  Vredech started out of his half-sleep. ‘What was that?’ he mumbled.

  Nertha was looking towards the trees in the distance.

  She was smiling. ‘Just the Whistler saying good-bye,’ she said.

  ‘Very droll,’ Vredech retorted.

  Then he twisted round and lay with his head in her lap. Relaxing into the warm summer afternoon, he stared up at the white summer clouds.

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  Document ID: fbd-484984-3424-d246-fb95-cb51-f67b-cc84a6

  Document version: 1

  Document creation date: 20.09.2010

  Created using: Fiction Book Designer software

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