Smell of moss, picked up by wind and lifted by trees. Flash of fire-rimmed eyes, toss of disdainful hair, gold-threaded-with-crimson. Derisive eyes and a tight little mouth, quick to contempt and slow to praise. Slender hands and slender frame roped the man in as easy as you please, and for what seemed like a thousand years promises of glittering gold kept her tethered to him like a

Comments

Want to comment? Login or Join

Login Sign up

feedmemusical (joined almost 10 years ago)

No favorites

Story information

License

Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0

genres

fantasy

tags

unfinished

Prompt

Blank Prompt

Freeform prompt. Every Friday, writers face a blank page without any prompt. They write whatever they want in six minutes or less.
Prompt suggested by Galen

Contact


We like you. Say "Hi."