A wee slip of a wispy haired creature was Agnes-who-loved-to-wander. She was on the moors come rain or shine, unaware of the treacherous terrain at her feet.
Like a ghostly ball of tumble weed she rode the high winds, giggling as they tossed her, our pale young thing simply couldn't keep a thought in her head. Whilst wondering what was for tea, she quite forgot the direction she was going in.
Well, the fog descends fast in these parts and tiny, hollow voices are known to whisper "come hither, we'll take you home". Before long, a thick misty blanket hung in the air and Agnes could see no further, than the tip, of her running nose.
Shivering and confused she wandered further and further into the desolate moor, but fear not, dear reader, for a fog lamp was lit up ahead. Aye, it was the Ghastly Governessa come for our wispy wanderer.
2 comments:
A new departure. Agnes giggles! I like that. Didn't do her much good though, did it, poor little mite.
She was a sweetly oblivious one, right until the very end...
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