Brooke’s feet pounded the pavement as she raced under the shadowy sea of dark clouds.
Behind her, the people danced, a whirling storm of limbs around the death-like figure who grew larger with each passing instant. The sway of the dance was like a storm.
Brooke drew a silver shard from her pocket.
Holding it high, she reflected the light of the Moon into the heart of the dance. The figure hissed, the light shining straight through it.
The dance ended.
The dancers drifted away as if in a haze, unaware of the shadow that had passed over them.
Word Count: 99
This is for Friday Fictioneers. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for running the challenge and Dale Rogerson for providing the prompt photo!
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Oh, that’s just downright eerie! Shivers and whispered prayers for protection raising. You wrote the evil so very well. Shivers again.
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Thank you!
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Good thing she had that silver shard in her pocket. Things could really have gone off the rails. :o) Wonderful writing!
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Thank you!
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Good one! I like magical tales 🙂
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Thanks!
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This story left me breathless. I love the pounding feet, the whirling storm of limbs.
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Thank you!
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You had me at ‘whirling storm of limbs.’ Great story!
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Thank you!
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Intrequing story, I enjoyed it
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Thank you!
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Love that imagery – the great evil and the sea of clouds. Just gorgeous. Lovely writing – and glad to see the Earth is safe once more 🙂
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Thank you!
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My pleasure 🙂
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Wonderfully atmospheric and disturbing. Good to see someone’s looking out for the earth.
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Thank you!
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Mesmerizing…
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That had the feel of a fairy tale. Loved it.
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Thank you!
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