The Kid in The Yellow Raincoat

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It was early morning in the graveyard. The sun was just beginning to rise in the distance, but the birds were not yet chirping. A mist had risen, swirling around any feet that dared to penetrate the deep, woody forest. Any noises made seemed to echo forever in the misty clearing that served as the old Marish graveyard. All graves were bathing in moss and bedded with leaves. Not a soul alive knew this graveyard existed. Well, except for one.

                                                                                            ...

Kore rested silently on the ivy-covered branch of an elderly willow. She stared around into the eerie silence that had become her home in the last few months. Every morning, before even Spite, the spunky black cat that lived in her bedroom, had awoken, Kore would gingerly creep across her creaky floor, towards her slanted, old-fashioned window. She would sit on the windowsill, waiting for an animal to make a ruckus that would disguise her landing. It was ten feet to the ground, where she had placed a leaf pile, and sometimes you could hear a "Pha-Thump!" When she hit the ground hard. On the day this story takes place, Kore managed to find a foothold in the rotting wooden boards surrounding her that made up her home. Like she had stuck a fork in a toaster, she scurried across the lifeless lawn and raced into the forest as if her life depended on it. 


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