Post Christmas

Short Story: Kites

      The wind was up, whipping the bay into a frothy mess; any ships that knew what was good for them were tied to the docks, bobbing around like multicolored rubber ducks.  Out on the horizon a mound of grayish fluff was rolling in, the first sign of the bad weather the port was in for that evening.  That wasn't stopping the kiters, though.

       Roelly and Grace sat on the roof, their legs dangling over the edge, watching the fantastical shapes dance in the stiff wind.  The sky was crowded, dangerously so, but the fliers were too experienced for mishaps.

       "Does this happen every time there's a storm?" asked Grace.
       "The kites? Yeah.  Right up until it rains. sometimes even through the rain if there's no lightning," answered Roelly.