It was going on for quite a few weeks now. The lady and her husband were always talking in hushed tones, alert and looking around to ensure no one was eavesdropping.
Being tiny has its own benefit; I can hide safely behind the ladyâ€™s thick curtains and listen.
The quiet conversations between the kind lady and her rude husband had increased ever since they had brought in that gagged little girl. Will she join with the rest of us slaves or be sold off to that bearded man who had come to look at her when they brought her home?
This post is in response to Corinne’s prompt atÂ Everyday GyaanÂ for the 100 Words on Saturday blog hop she is hosting.
(Visited 12 times, 1 visits today)
The following two tabs change content below.
Writing to me is therapy, it frightens and comforts at the same time. Liberates like nothing else. A book in my own name is a dream, but a bigger dream would be to write something that haunts the reader even after the last page is turned and the book is shut. I enjoy reading and music, spending time with family whilst battling my social awkwardness.