Microfiction: The last of the moonlight

Jane Dougherty Writes


This was one of her favourite places. It had been their trysting place years before, when she was just a silly girl and he a callow youth. Her father would have remembered that when her husband’s ‘colleagues’ set out to look for her. She listened, but the only sound was the lapping of lake water and the gentle panting of her dog.

She had been married to the man her father chose for her. Her objections were waved aside. After all, she could never tell him she had already given her heart. As far as her father was concerned, her heart was not hers to give. They had continued to meet, she and her lover, even after her marriage. Especially after her marriage. She would have thrown herself into the lake if he had not been there to take her in his arms and tell her lies about how one…

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