Every Sunday afternoon, he set of for a walk in the woods. Alone. Always alone. Always the same route. Others walked too – parents with kids; young couples in love, walking hand in hand; groups of friends, laughing and joking and disturbing the peace of nature. He never saw the same people.
Until that one day.
She was alone too. Short black dress, net stockings and boots. A coat on cooler days, bare arms when warmer. Every not-rainy day since she was there. Always disappearing between the trees. Always baring herself to the gods of nature.
Never aware of being watched.
Writing a story of exactly 100 words is quite a challenge. It’s a great exercise, as it forces you to look critically at what you have written, and dares you to keep to the essence of your story. Please feel free to join in, and if you do, you’re welcome to use the badge below, and link back to my page.
© Rebel’s Notes