She awakens. Leaves flutter into hair and twigs braid into fingers. She finds her sisters cut down and a red X sprayed across her own chest.
The tears bead, becoming sap frozen against ancient bark. She waits for the end, drinking the sun and whispering in the breeze.
Taryn is a writer and environmental scientist living in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley. See more at tnkloeden.com.
Quiet ceased as the storm began. The rainfall drowned out the sounds of his footfalls as he rushed forward to his foe, knife in hand.
He slashed and tore. Wires dangled and lines leaked their fluids.
His job was done. This mechanical monster would not fell another tree.
Brandon Magruder wrote this story.
On the bank of a river
she’s never known
call her home.
with twisted limb,
branches of trust
sing a hymn.
the cypress’ knee.
Within the silence,
He whispers a plea.
His metered veins,
a thousand lost stories,
a thousand beautiful refrains.
Grace Black, just another writer wearing down lead and running out of ink, one line at a time. Coffee refuels her when sleep has not been kind. Check out her blog at graceblackwrites.wordpress.com.