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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Nov, 2019
Shortlisted for Contest #16 ⭐️
Autumn was a time for mourning, and the woods knew that best. The woods that morning teetered on the edge of November. Frost lanced the black barked trees like cobwebs, and the dirt was dark and cold. The air tasted of earth. A low fog hemmed the roots of the trees, slipping between dim briars. Too slow for the eye to catch, under the white autumn sky, the trees stir. Nothing is still in the woods. If you were to listen – really listen – you would hear the choir. The trees were groaning. The leafless bushes creaked, and the fat, blood-filled...
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