Nelly is black.
It was a cold windy night in June, that saw Sir B. Raleigh standing before the long floor to ceiling window that overlooked the dark rushing river in the valley bellow. The blue of the sky was gone and darkness gripped the earth in a chilling clasp. The utter darkness outside was only broken occasionally by the jagged bolt of lightening that tore through the sky in serrated white flashes instantly lighting up the world in a brief, hollow, shadow of white. And as the rain continued to pound against the roof and windows, all would be black again.
Though his tall frame seemed very still, Sir B. Raleigh’s eyes squirmed from end to end, unable to focus, his Caucasian hands clenched his cane so tightly that his knuckles turned white. The sound of gushing water far bellow the hospital window did nothing to soothe his anxiety…
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