|Image by Daniel Murtag|
Now, whilst the New Year’s revellers continued their din, amidst party hats, streamers, and masks, she braved the frosty night air and danced barefoot over the dewy grass to the summer house. An over the shoulder glance to reassure that none had witnessed her departure and she stood, breathless and shivering, at the door. Suddenly she was beset by doubts. Was it possible that she had misinterpreted his message? No, she was sure now, as she discarded all garments save her cobweb-lace gown which seemed to have been spun around the contours of her body, enfolding it - making an offering of it.
Linking to Tess Kincaid's 'Magpie Tales' and joining others who have used this prompt to keep their muses alive and well.