Story Forest

Day 219

THE CRINKLE OF stories fluttered in the gentle breeze. Words, like black caterpillars, wriggled on the parchment leaves. Rough leather bark bent in the mild wind as the caretaker of the forest poured tears – of sadness, of terror, of joy – onto their roots.


Written: 27 May 2016

Words: 43 

x-posted

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