A Steadfast Cult
The banquet continued without Anasthasia as she went on the adjacent side of the residence, relatively far from the event's cheers and laughter. From silence lurked within the grand patio, her head turned to the soft creaks heralded to her ears.
It was a splintered wooden seat, varnished paint peeling off its crevices. Suspended heavily from the sagging wooden beam with verdant meadows snaking down to the ropes
She drew inches closer and perched on, once more, hearing the creaks under her weight, and took hold of the swing's taut rope, gripping tighter than ever.
'What did I just read?'
Stretched her legs, and with a gentle release, she swung nimbly in the breeze. It was a must; to unwind the things that burdened her heart.
'He said, I shall return…'
Every inch of her skin brushed against the wind ebb and flow; the more she got to know, the greater dread washed over her.