One
The forest is dead. Heavy silence weights the air. No movement stirs beneath the blackened leaves and twigs that litter the ground. The trees left standing are naked. Even the sunlight filtering through skeletal branches is dull and weak.
I wish I could remember what it looked like before.
A month has passed since The Destruction, but Creepy Hollow forest shows no sign of healing itself. Everyone says it’s because the fire wasn’t natural. It was driven by magic. The kind of magic that knows nothing but devastation.
I take a step forward, my boot raising a small cloud of ash from the debris. I’m not here to lament the ruin of Creepy Hollow. I didn’t even know the name of this place until someone told me. I’m here in the hopes that I’ll see something to trigger a memory. Any memory.
