©2022 Michael Raven
The moon casts cool light to etch colder shadows as stars rain across the canopy of sky. I could enjoy the view at any other time, but I find myself drawn along the path, the scent of apple cloying and pulling me along the narrow path leading away from the water’s edge. A flutter of wings, invisible in the night forest beat at the air around me and I feel talons finding purchase on my right shoulder. The weight is insubstantial, almost too light, and soon it is gone.
“I surprised,” I say. “I expected someone else before I suspected you might arrive.”
A snort of derision.Continue reading “Through the wood.”