The Forest - Becky Gray
Glowing green in the moonlight, the pine needles stood out, stark, against the snow. I could smell them where I stood, Christmas in a scent. Quietly, I continued in to the fabled wood; the place you hear stories of as a child. Squeaking above me, bats flew from tree to tree - darting back and forth like a dog playing fetch. Perfectly spherical, cold and emotionless, the moon cried out above - for help, or maybe just attention.
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