let lemons be angry

The Roofmaker's Daughter

She lived in a town of tradition that rested in a valley. Every day she went from house to house repairing torn roofs, what had been her father's trade. She spoke with her hands, for she was born silent. She gathered her stones from the core of the mountain that stood beside the town, carving out its heart to patch up holes in the shelters of her people, never taking any rest. She was safe from the rain and cold when the villagers opened their doors to her. Sometimes she told them she didn't need any shelter, and they always believed her. Then one day a terrible storm came, with blackness that ate up the sky. She ran along the streets but not one door or window was left unshut. She pounded on gates but the wind shredded all other sound. She ran until she reached the cave she had made of her mountain, and hid in the dark hollow of its belly. But the winds were at war, and they flung themselves against the thin walls of the mountain in their pursuit of each other. The mountain was but a shell, devoured on the inside by the town that had needed it for generations, strong and eternal only on the outside. It heaved, trying to lift itself, and with the only scream that was louder than the raging thunder, crumbled in its emptiness.