It’s too late…the gentle breeze sighed through the aspens and rippled out across the water, and the prophetic words echoed in her soul. The flame flickered and the candle snuffed, and a spiral of wispy smoke rose. The knot in her belly tightened, and the chain slipped through her fingers as a sigh murmured on her lips.
“Camelot…” she breathed and her bosom rose and fell.
She sank into the warmth of the embroidered quilt, and as the wind awakened, billowing about the prow, moving the little boat, the lady and her soul fell asleep for the remainder of time.
Written for Flash! Friday challenge, 100 words exactly on Waterhouse's famous painting. If you want to know more click the link below the painting, and find Alfred, Lord Tennyson's poem 'The Lady of Shallott' here.