Excerpt from Death In Bagheria, a work in progress
Friday, March 25, 1870
The storm had lessened somewhat and the sky had lifted, but Serafina sat on the tiles, cold and wet and hugging herself, terror clutching her heart, knowing that any moment her assailant might return. Shaking and soaked, she rose, surveyed the damage to her dress and person and decided not to cower in a corner but to meet him head on if he returned. The rain had almost stopped as she limped around to the middle of the roof, into view of Rosa and the overhang.
As she approached, Rosa managed a whisper, “What happened?”
Photo: Three-Masted Barque, early twentieth century. Wikipedia Commons.
