The Last Dance Of Purple.



Thank you Sue Vincent for the picture prompt🔜 press 🔙here to join in with #write photo.

Not knowing where she was, Mable shook free her hair and tried to clear her head. On the horizon colours reflected like a kaleidoscope bouncing light from the setting sun to the frozen brook. She blinked and flinched as memories rushed in. The cold hard floor, the biting rope, the rumble of an empty stomach and the taste of metal on her tongue. Her only hope was to get as far away as possible before the sun disappeared and her view was lost. The terrible reality of her ordeal thrust home but refusing to acknowledge it she pushed on.

Mabel stumbled on towards the light; her head flicking back constantly to see if she was followed. A loss of concentration and she tripped on a root; her footing was lost. One wet stocking told her she…

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