Impromptu - Six
Elsa could barely remember what happened, everything occurred in a stupor of colours and movement. Now she found herself standing in the middle of a tightrope, holding nothing but a bright-red parasol in her hands.
There was no safety net underneath her, no cord to tether her in, nothing to prevent her from plunging to her inevitable death.
“Oh, my dearest,” she heard someone calling. Elsa glanced up to see Jack Frost lounging on a velvet-red throne on the platform in front of her, grinning deviously, “don’t fall now.”
Elsa took a step towards him, the rope wobbled underneath her feet.
She gasped, dropping the open-parasol. It slowly tumbled its way to the ground in gentle swirls: Elsa’s fall would not be so graceful.
“Give us a good show, won’t you?” Jack cooed.
Elsa took another step.
The rope shook.
And shrieked, plummeting down to the snow-covered ground.
Impromptu Part Six of Eight