Vignette: The Hall Of Mosses

By Jane | October 19, 2014


I am circled by giants who moan and creak above me. Thick sleeves of pale green moss dangle from their arms and faces, adding to their ghostly air.

The rain splat splats on the forest floor. My shoes squelch with each step on the spongy trail.

The dazzlingly clear air makes me dizzy, euphoric.

Looking way up, I spin around; the forest spins the other way, each tree blurring into the next. Stumbling, I pause to recalibrate. Hearing a sound in the undergrowth, I peer between the branches, half expecting a giant wolf (this being Twilight country) to loom out of the dark woods.

But there is nothing to see except a tiny brown chipmunk scurrying out of sight.  

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