The wind rustled through the leaves as the day continued to pass by. How many seconds, minutes, hours, have passed since then?
I take a deep breath as I let the psithurism surrounding me drown out my thoughts. I've always felt safe in the forest, it has always been where I ran to when I needed to be alone. All though the broken branches, the earthly smell, the flowers that littered the grass, the occasional curious lizard or insect made me company, it was the kind that calmed me down and that I enjoyed.
Since I was small, trees always amazed me: how they grow and reach out to the sky, their wide trunks, their roots appearing out of the dirt beneath them. They symbolize the perfect coexistence between earth and sky, connecting the two with such majesty.
The leaves would not last for much longer, in fact some already starting to earn a brownish tone.
This year will be the first time that I won't be able to witness the autumn weather showing itself in the woods.
This September everything will change.
YOU ARE READING
Alive
Short Story"I want to write a story that talks about what it means to be human. In all our mistakes, in all our pain. I want to write about demons, addictions, alcohol, sex. I want to write something that is real, and for it to be so, for it to be real, it mus...
