A Short Story: The Story Of Missfull: A Story

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As all these were going on, a woman who has snuggled under a tree awoke, glanced around with sleepy eyes, uncomprehendingly. She was as if languished. Her dress was wet with dew; her joints were congealed and brittle. Run her hand through her curly hair, frowning. She was dressed with high-necked, long and forest green raiment. The raiment, which was handmade, was like its owner: extraordinary and beautiful. She felt something touching her skin over breast. Dipped her hand and pulled a necklace. It was made of by gold and massiveness was fascinating, eye capturing. Its rough craftsmanship was pardoning by heart shape anyway. It had been written “Missfull” over it. Missfull noticed solitude surrounding her. Neither bird chirpings, bug rustling or murmuring of wind were but purring of river at a distance. Trees were younger and serried. The sun was gleaming through their leaves; droplets clung to branches, which had constituted string beads were anticipating a cause to drop. She discomforted when she felt as though whole surroundings had held their breaths and were watching her. Got to her feet, then ambling through the trees, found a broad path among them. She stood in the middle of the path for a while as she swung his gaze left, then right. Raised her head upwards, cocked her ears for slow revival of things. She rejoiced gratuitously as she realized the cheerful life surrounding her and her lips curled with a smile; mysterious look disappeared, she turned to a

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