Talking Trees

Updated: Dec 30, 2021

Little red riding hood and colored curls. Pearls dangling neatly and fabric rustling against the swaying of the wind. Sounds of words whistling and beckoning calls get lost amidst the bird songs and the sound of the roaring breeze.

Little red riding hood, with her basket clutched tightly, guarding herself against the swaying tree branches and falling leaves. And the trees, they talk as she wanders nimbly past them. Their words like echoes beating through the empty forest.

Words hanging in the balance like fluttering wings. Not hesitating to move, but failing to reach a desired destination. Words encircle her, swarming through her mind and dangling past her eyes. Words fluttering above and below her, her body swarmed by them.

As each syllable falls through the air around her, the forest begins to light ablaze. Words, catching like flames in the darkest night. Swirling around the very branches that willed them into existence.

Fire surrounds her. Fire surrounds the forest. High and low, there is nothing but light and the ever-present sound of trees whistling their sharpest sentences.