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3iggy300 words
The warmth was missing from the morning. It was a subtle thing, one that meteorologists and official beginnings and endings on calendars could not control. It had been there last night, the summer, but as Sarah stepped out onto the veranda she found it quite gone. A fickle chill had settled on the air, crisp and clean, it spoke of bonfires, flannel, and hot chocolate. Autumn had arrived without warning—and with it a letter.
The envelope which was the color of frost on newly painted leaves, a color impossible to describe let alone create, rested on the welcome mat. Shivering, Sarah stooped to retrieved it before venturing out into the cold morning. With gentle fingers she opened the impossible letter and looked over its contents. It was an invitation, albeit one without dates, directions, or details.
Yet, Sarah knew from where it had come and mostly what it entailed since there was a transference of faerie dust from the card to her fingers tips. The otherworldly particles glistened in the crisp morning sun like sequins on a ball gown. There was an unexpected flutter in her stomach reminiscent of the leaves scattering across the yard.
The ambiguous invite was most certainly a dare—a chance to risk it all. And, had the day been warm and green as she’d expected, Sarah may have had the inclination to turn her back on it, but something in the loam-scented chill of the morning had her tucking the letter into her back pocket with a sense of daring. She’d be ready.
The warmth was missing from the morning. It was a subtle thing, one that meteorologists and official beginnings and endings on calendars could not control. It had been there last night, the summer, but as Sarah stepped out onto the veranda she found it quite gone. A fickle chill had settled on the air, crisp and clean, it spoke of bonfires, flannel, and hot chocolate. Autumn had arrived without warning—and with it a letter.
The envelope which was the color of frost on newly painted leaves, a color impossible to describe let alone create, rested on the welcome mat. Shivering, Sarah stooped to retrieved it before venturing out into the cold morning. With gentle fingers she opened the impossible letter and looked over its contents. It was an invitation, albeit one without dates, directions, or details.
Yet, Sarah knew from where it had come and mostly what it entailed since there was a transference of faerie dust from the card to her fingers tips. The otherworldly particles glistened in the crisp morning sun like sequins on a ball gown. There was an unexpected flutter in her stomach reminiscent of the leaves scattering across the yard.
The ambiguous invite was most certainly a dare—a chance to risk it all. And, had the day been warm and green as she’d expected, Sarah may have had the inclination to turn her back on it, but something in the loam-scented chill of the morning had her tucking the letter into her back pocket with a sense of daring. She’d be ready.
