studio

“The lower pasture is flooded.” The voice was unfamiliar. Ed Straker looked up to see … he blinked. In an uncharacteristic gesture he rubbed his eyes and wondered when the last time he’d slept was. The … being … was still there, hovering about two inches off his desk top, surrounded by monumental, for it, gossamer wings. ‘I’ve finally cracked,’ he thought, nodding to the incensed small entity. She lowered…