She scrambled down the rock face, slipping on the patches of damp moss and grass. In her panic she tumbled over the over-hang that covered the entrance to her hideout – a small opening in the hillside, hidden by the natural landscape and fauna. She landed with a thump on the hard ground and for a moment sat dazed. Then she came to her senses and threw herself inside the cave, letting the darkness wrap itself around her, hiding her from her pursuers.
She listened. In the distance she could hear voices and the barks of the hound. She held her breath and tried to determine if they were heading in her direction. Gradually she began to relax as the sounds faded into the distance. She had evaded them again.
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e time. Back then, in the 1960s, he was denounced as an extremist, as so many of us are when our dreams threaten the current establishment. But Martin Luther King Jr. was undeterred and his dream inspired a movement toward equal rights and human dignity for all men and women.
An invitation to writephoto writers…
She swore she could hear distant pipers on the heath. Palpable memories of childhood days spent at the Castle. Travelling minstrels of her heritage, far away, but not too distant. She stood quietly as memories of weddings and feasts were set before her. Their shadows returning to haunt her. The melodious nostalgic sounds, of the piper.
Sue Vincent's Daily Echo 