Writing Workshop #1: On the Word ‘And’ The Beggar Woman’s Song

And the beggar woman sang of the wolf’s cold heart, how she prowled in a mist shrouded lane, she widened her slanted yellow eyes and let her blood red howl resound through the woods. And, oh! How it throttled the trees! And, oh! How it threatened the lives of the very birds who hopped from branch to branch each night! The beggar woman cradled her child, her only fragment of comfort in a harsh world, where all reality was grey and sharp at the edges. Beautiful Felicity. With her tender locks of golden morning rays framing a round, dimpled face, and her grey pearlescent eyes that were reminiscent of the moon’s burnished silver, and her pallid, lustrous skin that glowed with youth and radiance. She was a perfect picture of the beggar woman, or what she had once been. The beggar woman glanced at the path, and then the Inspectors were coming again. And she darted away, like a deer, running from the wolf.