Giggling rose from the depths of the dark sleepy forest pool. It was time! The rich smell of blossoming black hellebores hung in the sunless atmosphere which remained wrapped in a mist-covered mystery. A thin layer of frost covered the greenwood floor. Even the last singers of the night–the cicadas, who usually took over until […]

via Vile Creatures (Micro-fiction)  — Peregrinating The Isle Of Life

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