In the murk of the witching hour, the familiar shapes of her garden took on strange, alien aspects. A full moon rose into a sky as black as her prospects, its radiance shining like her faith in a higher power. She started to dance, barefoot on the grass, the cool night air brushing her naked skin like a lover’s gentle caress. Whirling round, faster and faster she span, till words like ‘Tumour’ and ‘Stage Four’ flew from her head out into the darkness. Life is everlasting, she whispered and the stars wept with joy when she rose to join them.
David Lowis
9/8/2022 05:51:54 pm
Wonderful, Bill.
Kim Favors
9/8/2022 08:17:16 pm
Beautiful.
Fliss Zakaszewska
10/8/2022 01:13:14 am
Beautiful story, beautifully told.
Sue Clayton
10/8/2022 08:13:05 am
Surreal and lovely.
JM Subban
15/8/2022 04:47:12 pm
Beautiful. Comments are closed.
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"Classic"
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