Breaking the Prophecy

ng mist clung to the valleys, it was small, isolated, and the kind of

ha, was born deaf and mute, a silence

woman, a folk healer, had

a and proclaimed she would spe

weight, like stones dropped into a still

n lore whispered at town gatherings, something to make my mot

icating through a series of gestures and express

hose hands were rough but whose heart wa

iet intensity that fil

cher at the local school, his support a

khaven, seen it all, heard it a

church, his voice smooth as river stones but his inf

jumble that sometimes, just sometimes, held a sliver of truth nobody e

on silence, love, and a