Come, hide behind this tree and wait for nightfall. Only then, as silent owls glide, bats flit and the brook burbles unseen, will you hear her sing.
The wheel of fortune has locked solid into the wheel of misfortune. She’s alone with a voice so beautiful and heart-rending, even the moon hides from her for fear she’ll disrupt the tides with her melancholy.
Once a renowned operatic mezzo-soprano with the world at her feet, madam is reduced to living in a hovel with crawling creatures her only companions.
You see, she loved the wrong man. It’s as simple as that.
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Friday Fictioneers: 100 word stories
Photo prompt: image (c) Piya Singh
Sarah Potter Writes 