Lady of the Lake
A light breeze was blowing. I remember that because it tumbled her hair across her face in that way which makes her endearingly waiflike. There’s her smile, uncertain, as if she’s not sure of the joke. These things I recollect, but not what we talked about, or why she walked away. There was her back, shoulders hunched. There was the crunch of twigs under her feet. Then there was only me. Staring at the lake.
A pale arm holding a sword rose from the waters, and then was gone.
.
Friday fictioneers is a weekly challenge set by Rochelle Wisoff Fields to write a 100-word story in response to a photo prompt. You can find other stories here
Very wistful, Neil. I like that we shared a title but went different places with it!
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Thanks so much
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He didn’t take the sword?
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The arm receives the sword, not offer it
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A pensive piece indeed. Nice.
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Thanks, Keith
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A fleeting meeting with Guinevere, on dry land? Lovely imagery, Neil.
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Thanks so much. Jilly
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Neil it feels like he was under an enchantment — but he remembers enough. The hunchback and the way she crunched the twigs are nice details that add to the atmosphere.
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Thanks so much., Lisa
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You are welcome.
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Love this Arthurian legend piece Neil 🗡️
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Thanks so much
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This is a lovely read, Neil. A tale of wishful thinking.
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Thanks so much, Dale
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Mysterious women are full of unreachable charm. I wonder why?
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Riddles wrapped in enigmas
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Dear Neil,
Contemplative and enchanting.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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was he just imagining things? i wonder.
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