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Publié par Alessandro Zabini




She fled & vanished, sensing that the white shape had a suspect, even though it was not at all certain it had seen her. She felt what was searched by those horrible white things—the secret burden. It had slipped under the wet, fallen leaves, down the very steep slope, until it had sunk under the deep layers of the heaped leaves, silent in the thick shower of the rain over the leafage. It slid, bumped, bounced, fell—the cloth in which it was wrapped got caught in a branch—it skidded and dropped again, it fell down towards the hidden brook. It rolled, it slipped, it stopped and wedged itself under muddy roots falling forward. She saw it.

[…]

She looked around—the hidden brook down the steep and wooded hillsides, the bottom of the ravine, the big grey roots coming out from the leaf-covered ground. Though she had never seen that place because it was impossibile to walk down there, she recognized the ravine. From the meadow that could not be seen from the bottom of the ravine, came the runaway girl’s screams, smothered by the pelting rain and choked by the white horrible hands. She was no more inside her, however she knew they were taking her away, she knew what the runaway girl knew. She would be tortured and then she would be killed
—to save a goddess.






Glimpses of a Muse’s Flight



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