“Granda said it’s dragon. He fell asleep and the grass grew on him and he won’t wake up until the world ends.”
“Your Granda loved to tell stories; he told me that same one, too.” Patrick looked down at his son, who stared fixedly at the mound of grass. They’d spent a week in Ireland, packing up his father’s house.
“Did you feel that?” Connor’s blue eyes were huge. Patrick was about to ask him what he was talking about when the ground vibrated beneath their feet.
A few miles away, a delivery truck rumbled over the uneven back roads.