This is perhaps Chapter 2, continuing the story of Bedelia’s circled life, found here https://cobbledcontemplations.com/2020/04/16/a-circled-life-sixsentencestories, if you’re interested.
The fall leaves were no longer…winter’s frigid winds had blown them to another kingdom beyond Bedelia’s world.
Spring took stage, a slow ballet of warming breezes, cherry blossoms, sky’s cloudless blue perfection.
Bedelia said a prayer for courage to tamp down her agoraphobia, donned tattered mauve sweater, and ventured out her bolted door.
Nearby was a woodsy area, fragrant with greening undergrowth and an old bridge.
The bridge was faded gray planks which accepted footsteps without uttered offense, soft and gently ‘neath Bedelia’s feet.
Not much of a bridge, it was more a pallet lying on the ground, extending six feet and stopping at a cliff wall—like Bedelia, the bridge didn’t go anywhere…she turned and walked back over it, returning home.
©Rhen Laird/Cobbled Contemplations, 2020 ~ All rights reserved.