Total pages in book: 4
Estimated words: 3176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 16(@200wpm)___ 13(@250wpm)___ 11(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 3176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 16(@200wpm)___ 13(@250wpm)___ 11(@300wpm)
Just before she drifted off to sleep, she heard a deeply masculine voice echo inside her head.
I will return to you, Isabelle. I have but this night, yet I find I cannot let you go.
Epilogue
Isabelle awoke to sunlight from her bedroom window shining across her face. She winced and raised a hand to block the unwanted rays. Oh, she wanted to go back to sleep! She knew reality couldn’t possibly be as wonderful as fantasy.
She rolled onto her back with a silly smile on her face. If Flying Broomsticks gave her these kinds of dreams, she was making a habit of them. She tried to get out of bed only to find she was pleasantly sore.
Damn!
What had she done? More importantly, who had she done it with?
She groaned as she got to her feet and went to her bathroom to wash her face. The cool water felt wonderful against her flushed face and neck. As she turned around to go back to the bedroom, she noticed something sitting on her windowsill.
Approaching cautiously, she realized it was a tiny jack-o-lantern. A note was folded neatly beside it. Her hands shook as she unfolded it to read its contents.
My dearest Isabelle, all my love until we meet again.
It wasn’t signed and she didn’t recognize the script, but the paper looked old, and the loops and fancy whorls of the writing suggested an older time.
When she heard a horse’s neigh, she looked out the window. In the sunlight outside the forest, her dark lover sat proudly atop his steed. With a wave of his hand, as if in salute, he galloped into the trees.
Throwing on her clothes as rapidly as she could, Isabelle ran to the edge of the forest where she’d seen him. The ground was soft with a recent rain -- surely she’d be able to follow him. But when she reached the spot where she’d seen him -- beside an ancient oak -- there was no sign he’d ever been there. Even her soft footfalls left indentions in the earth, but there was no trace of the great stallion. The only thing left behind was a very large pumpkin. No carving marred its perfect surface. It was alive and healthy, the only pumpkin on a vine that hadn’t been there a few days ago.
She looked around, hoping she’d see him, even deep within the wood, but he was nowhere to be found. She breathed a sigh of resignation and turned to go back to the house. She had just reached for the door handle when the ghostly echo of a horse’s whinny and joyful male laughter came to her on the breeze.
But when she turned around, there was no one.