That's what I'm working on right now. It's a short story that I think will still be fairly short by the time I'm finished. Um. Short for me is thirty to fifty pages. It's not an epic. It will NOT be a series. I tell myself every day. Anyway.
He thought he could see purple reflected behind the billowy gauze when she reached a few steps above him before she tripped, falling into Balthaar's arms with a solidity that belied her apparent weightlessness.
She felt cold, like a bird hanging onto the last of its life after striking glass, heart thumping delicately in its feeble frame.
I love the bird part. I've held a bird in my hands after it's hit the window and broken its neck. I've felt the last of its heart beats before it grows cold and stiff. Heartbreaking.
Anyway, have a glorious day! Hope the sun shines wherever you are.