The Hanged Lady (standard:fantasy, 1770 words)
Author: Hulsey	Added: Jun 17 2002	Views/Reads: 4715/2704	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
What secrets do Primrose Wood have for the two children?

Whenever my thoughts turn to Primrose Wood, a warm ticklish sensation
runs through my body, filling me with pure, innocent memories of long 
ago. I remember the first time that I saw her. It was a wonderful 
summer's day. A day for picking berries or paddling in the cool river. 

“Wendy, my little sister, being thirteen years of age is merely one year
younger than myself, but the boisterous tomboy was vulnerable and 
needed the protection of an older brother. Today, we decided to build a 
raft; a task beyond most thirteen year olds, but Wendy thrives on a 
challenge, and mum always said that she ought to have been a boy. Wendy 
would prefer to go beck jumping rather than do normal things a girl of 
her age would do, such as playing with dolls. 

We armed ourselves with a coil of rope and a wood saw, which I sneaked
from my father's shed, before heading for the river. Wendy, as usual 
took the lead, after taking the saw from my unresisting grip. Had it 
been any other girl, I would have found it embarrassing, but Wendy 
could be very persuasive. 

With the expertise of a seasoned lumberjack, she ascended the tall
chestnut tree, selecting the prime limbs for the raft, before sawing 
away. “Timber!” She would scream, in her high-pitched voice, her 
freckled-face lighting up, when the branch fell to the ground. 

After thirty minutes, an abundance of wood lay at the base of the tree.
Wendy, with her hair in pigtails, and wearing unflattering dungarees, 
descended the tree and slapped her hands together, before inspecting 
her bounty. 

“Do you think we have enough?” I asked. 

“If we haven't, there are plenty more trees.” 

She swatted away an irritating wasp, before producing a treacle toffee
from her pocket. She teasingly unwrapped it, before sucking noisily on 
the delicious sweet. 

“Giz one,” I drooled. 

“No way.” She shook her head and sucked even harder. 

“Go on... I'll swap you for a blackjack?” 

“Two!” 

I pondered. She drove a hard bargain, did my sister. I delved deep
inside my pocket amongst the marbles, conkers and football stickers, 
and handed over the goods. 

Before starting on the raft, we decided to cool our feet, and so we
paddled into the river. The welcome cold water refreshed us against the 
scorching sun that burnt our necks. It was unusually calm, and not even 
a breath of wind was present. 

Something caught my eye. A huge swarm of butterflies had converged on
the riverbank, fluttering their tiny, colourful wings. 

“Wow! Check them out, Wendy.” 

We waded towards them, disturbing a couple of frogs that were taking a
siesta on the lily pads. Putting on our shoes hurriedly, we watched the 
hundreds of butterflies head into Primrose Wood. We bounded after them, 
giggling as we meandered through the trees and mingled with the 
butterflies. They reached their destination and hovered at the base of 
a huge oak tree. Our eyes followed them, as they rose skywards. 

We gasped, when we took in the terrifying sight before us. A lady was
hanging from the tree, her eyes closed, and her long golden tresses 
covering her shoulders. It was as if she was attempting to conceal the 
noose around her neck. Her contorted face was the colour of snow; her 
eye sockets and lips as purple as the most vibrant heather. Her long, 
white dress fluttered wildly, even though no breeze was present. She 
swayed back and forth, the creaking of the branch the only sound 
present, when the birds assumed their silence. 



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