“Quick, under here!” urged Jenny, pulling her friend out of the rain.
“But what is this place?” wondered Nick, looking wide-eyed at the quaint purple door. “Does somebody live here?”
“Well, if they do, I’m sure they won’t mind us waiting here until the rain stops…” Jenny replied.
Her sentence was interrupted by the sound of the ancient door slowly creaking open.
“Well, hello there,” came a raspy, almost cackling voice. “I don’t get many visitors.”
Without looking to see who had spoken, the two children yelped, darted back into the pouring rain and raced along the path.
“Pity,” sighed the old lady despondently.
A short story I wrote for the Friday Fictioneers writing prompt.