Damask Rose

Damask

Damask RoseSeonid’s fingers, usually so nimble, fumbled with the buttons at the neck and wrists of her gown. She was careful not to brush the silk damask against the damp, mildewed walls. She opened the door, letting in a burst of raucous laughter from below, and slipped down the stairs without a backward glance.


This post was written in response to the Trifecta Writing Challenge  weekend prompt: give us a complete story in three sentences.

A little context can be found in previous posts: Need and The Other Sort of Need.

9 thoughts on “Damask

  1. Trifecta says:

    Thanks for joining up with us for the weekend challenge. This is a beautifully-written piece and I love the cold, emotionless descent down the stairs. The raucous laughter suggests that perhaps she is not yet finished for the night. Hope to see you for the weekday challenge.

    Like

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