A break in the clouds sends a sunbeam arrowing straight to earth. On its way down it catches her, wraps her up, pulls her face up to its warm light. Her skin, the color of wet clay, begins to glisten as beads of sweat form in the heat.

The same breeze that shifted the clouds has followed the beam of sun. It swirls and eddies around her head. Deep mahogany curls flit about, obscuring her face. Startling jade eyes sparkle out from under the windswept curls.

The breeze continues on, pulling at the pale blue dress she wears. The dress is light, as flowing as her curls. Silver bells are sewn on the hem and they sing softly as the breeze gently rocks them. One bell slips its bonds and falls.

The cool metal against her bare foot draws her attention away from the comforting warmth and light of the sun. Her short fingers, empty of ring or wrinkle, reach to retrieve the wayward bell. As she stands back up she sighs softly, brings the bell to her lips and murmurs. With a deft flick of her wrist she flings the bell over her right shoulder.

The bell jingles once more as it hits the grass and begins a lonely journey down the hill. She walks the opposite direction from the bell, leaving the patch of sunlight. Each step sure and strong, she has returned to my side in just a few strides.

(Last night this little scene came to me in a flash–I quickly had to write this up before it slipped my brain. I believe it’s most likely the beginning of a new story idea–or at the very least a new character. Patiently waiting to see where she takes me.)