A branch caught the hem of her nightgown as she bolted from the woods. Leaves tore at her hair as she dipped too late beneath the Pine just beyond the Gum. One single root exposed from the Weeping Willow snapped her limbs at the edge of the water. Falling like timber landing between the twisted trunk of the Cypress she lumbers.
Friday Flash 55: Telling the story falling at exactly 55..Check it out at G-Man where you can join in or just plain sit a spell and read the others.
