Written By: Zoe G.
She crossed her legs and sat under the willow tree, her silver flute balanced precariously on her knees. She waited, silent, until the stars flickered on, fuzzy pinpricks of white light. She stood up, picked up her flute, and blew a tentative note into the humid July air. She launched into a melancholy melody, piano, and as she tip-toed through the sleeping town, children slipped from their houses, entranced, to follow her; she smiled.
