The wood-elves danced till breaking dawn.
But breaking dawn brought down the frost.
“Too soon!” some few still-sober dancers roared, which to the rushing swirling waters beneath the bridge sounded more like a rustling, less than a whispering.
The frost-giants’ breath claimed the dancing elves, stuck them, frozen, to the stone.
Unable to move, the wood-elves moaned. They had danced too long, frost had come too soon. This was their doom.
crispina kemp 
I like your symbolism of front. Well done!
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Thank you, Frank. 🙂
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I loved this photo and wanted to use it. But then had to create a story or rhyme or something to go with it. This.
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“More than a rustling, less than a whisper.” Wow. A dynamic audio image!
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I was there, I heard the water!!! Thank you for appreciating 🙂
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Aww, so sad.
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Such is life for wood elves!
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Poor delicate creatures
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They are, indeed they are 🙂
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😓
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Oh those dancing fools! If they were more inebriated, rather than sober, one could better understand their lack of awareness…
Wonderful story to go with this beautiful image.
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Thank you, Dale 🙂
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I enjoyed the rhyme just as much as the photo.
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Thank you 🙂
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Curfews are for a reason! Nice tale!
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Thank you 🙂
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Wow, what an ending.
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Thank you 🙂
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Delightful writing ☺️
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I like to play!
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