Wind of Night

The house deep in the lonesome valley
Where a tired child once lay
Where a slumbering couple dreamed of happiness
Where darkness had come to abide

The walls once contained complete joy
A little boy with all his toys
The family wallowing in bliss
Ne’er expecting deaths’ cruel kiss

The wind howling a murderous tune
The trees cackling beneath it
The air was thick with palpable misery and woe
The child’s moans masked by the wind

This started out as a submission for Mary's contest (http://enterthewriterslair.blogspot.com/2011/12/announcing-first-ever-writers-lair.html), but it was too long. It’s a Christmas story, as you can’t tell from the title, but it’s also a lot of other things. So…onwards and upwards.
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One of Three
Anita’s exasperated cousin once asked, “You think life’s a soundtrack, don’t you?”