Her Last Encounter
It was a brisk, autumn day in Eastern Canada. The trees had already turned beautiful shades of orange and yellow. Isabela Diamanté walked slowly through the grass admiring the woods by which she lived.
She looked at her watch. The afternoon sun glinted from the crystal face. It was past four and it was time to return home. As she turned to walk away from the tree line she heard a noise from the woods. It sounded like a voice.
"Hello?" She called glancing into the trees. There was no response. A cold wind blew from the north and she wrapped her coat a bit tighter around her shoulders.
As she turned again to walk something caught her eye. A piece of parchment had blown onto the grass from the woods. She hurried over to retrieve it all the while peering into the darkness to see where it came from.
Satisfied that there was no one there, she opened the parchment and began to read. . .
She looked at her watch. The afternoon sun glinted from the crystal face. It was past four and it was time to return home. As she turned to walk away from the tree line she heard a noise from the woods. It sounded like a voice.
"Hello?" She called glancing into the trees. There was no response. A cold wind blew from the north and she wrapped her coat a bit tighter around her shoulders.
As she turned again to walk something caught her eye. A piece of parchment had blown onto the grass from the woods. She hurried over to retrieve it all the while peering into the darkness to see where it came from.
Satisfied that there was no one there, she opened the parchment and began to read. . .