my work.

Photo by Clément Proust on Pexels

bottom of the lake

Adrenaline and defiance pounded through her, along with imagined victories and “told you so”s. She was almost beyond the threshold of the sitting room when she saw a ash of something in the mirror. The steed was… longer. She turned to the window and it stood as before, pawing the ground impatiently. She thought to step closer to reexamine, but that ash from the mirror stuck her in place. Stutteringly, she turned to face the mirror again. It was longer. The head was stretched – no, stretching