Electronic fiction by ladyhildegarde
†
Courtyard
have an image of her fixed in my mind: she is standing beneath an arbor, her face shaded by a wide-brimmed hat. She is dressed all in black, pulling away her long black gloves as she laughs.
Now the arbor is bare, and a hollow wind caresses my face in the abandoned garden. What has happened here? I am sure no one comes out here for tea anymore.
The broken gazebo languishes in a sea of waist-high weeds. The garden slumbers to the music of cicadas, who chorus suddenly, startlingly, to an impetus I cannot guess.
†
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Last update
Monday, July 2, 2007 5:10 PM