At the feet of mossy tree trunks and crushed bluebells beneath my quaking knees, I am at the mercy of goddesses. I pray the witch was not right in her prophesy- that my life and the noble son I carry in my womb are not endangered. However, her word and magic is all I can depend upon, for I do not trust a soul in this house of O Connor. Ever since the day I’ve learned of my son and the return of Catherin, I’ve been haunted by a tapping behind the walls. Faithfully at nightfall the rapping breaks me into a running well of hopelessness; Goddess Brigid couldn’t heal this pain. Even now in the solitude of this forest floor I feel the emerald eyes of Catherin watching me. My paranoia has brought about a desperate sweat in the damp wind. It covers me with grief.
Carolyn
Bryonna
caitlinjcurley
chrisarmagh
dominiquefrangiamone
Terri Ciofalo
Charles Hess (greymalkn)
Kimberley Lynne
Christopher Warman
Nessa O'Mahony
Jauffe
Malachi
Robert Shillieto
Allie Vugrincic
Sharea H.
Well done, you! You found a strong character voice in her. Love the details of the bluebells and the sweat.
LikeLiked by 1 person
“breaks me into a running well of hopelessness..” Wow. I love this ❤ the juxtaposition of the breaking and running, the well of hopelessness! Very vivd
LikeLiked by 1 person