Miss Elsie Ratchet

Miss Elsie Ratchet 

  Sun eclipsed the ragged stone monolith above, and light hesitantly edged its way into the glen. The glimmer of morning dew upon heather, rimmed the upper valley, as light chased shadows along the creek cut floor. Thatched roofs, one by one were light engaged, distinct, while blue ethereal smoke like ribbons attached to sky, marked the first morning fires stoked. Miss Elsie Ratchet stood atop the milliners stoop, her hob-nailed boot laden feet, apart...

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