From the great white tower, Agneta stole away among the rose and lilac to glimpse the fading day. The sun poured like whiskey across the meadow green. The silence stilled her heartbeat in her soft reverie. Her cheek flushed with twilight, unbound curls all abloom, as she danced beside the waves to the lone thrush’s tune. As nightfall held her close and the molten moon shone a whisper in the water drew her keen gaze below. From the murky waters a face began to rise, as soft as drownéd starlight, but with wild azure eyes...
Maggie Sadler 