MIST CURLED UP from leaf littered forest floor. Spiraling around the trunks of birch, it slunk across the open meadow. It’s ethereal ivory tendrils glowed faintly; raindrops danced against the grass, flashing mysterious jewels in the mist. As it crept closer to the house, I heard the quietest rustle, like pages being turned. Something had crossed over from the land of the dead.
Written: 1 April 2016