Her Chicken Scratch / Short Stories

The Red Moon.

The air was chilled and threaten snow. But that didn’t stop them. Barefoot and shivering, they carefully balanced on the fallen tree. Stepping over the protruding branches that poked out like little lollipops. The texture a mixture of a sandy beach that often visited their dreams, and the hard stones that made up their nightmares. It was late and dark enough to know that they should be heading home. The red moon, breathing out a path. Exhaling once more, sending the golden leafs twinkling up.

Written by Alecia Writes

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