The write-up is based on a sensitive theme and may be a little disturbing.
She found it hard to concentrate on teacher’s monologue.
Her mind wandered.
To the ink on her back.
To the damp dungeon.
To the scratching of the pen.
To his fingers tracing the hemlines.
Then the fresh contours.
Then probing further, deeper.
To those seven days.
To the municipal trash-can where they had found her.
With only a mirror in her hand.
She still heard him, all the time
“Mirror mirror on the wall ...
You're the fairest of them all”
She knew he still haunted the streets out there.
And, all she could do was hate butterflies.
Linking with Velvet Verbosity : 100 words : Wall
Linking with Ermiliablog : Picture it and write