October 7, 2013

2013-10-01 11.17.23

Twig Hand

He staggered into the fog. Pale lights loomed ahead, were swallowed behind. He veered into the tangled undergrowth by the path. Red leaves in bunches slapped at his face. His eyes swam in and out of focus where the mist thinned and thickened in pulses. He came to a standstill, breathing heavily. A rustling. He squinted. The hand of twigs reached out. His body was never found.

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