Fiona

Fox Wood

When I was little, the two roads through Fox Wood were no more than undergrowth pressed flat by habitual footfall. Now I am old. The roads are asphalt paths. Fox Wood is a quarter of its previous size and instead of the roads emerging onto glorious open fields, they emerge onto Honeysuckle Drive and Rose Crescent, although there is…[Read more]

*content warning for a bit of gore down at the end*

All Woods

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood. One led to autumn, calm and chilly, its last bronzed leaf picked by a wind still echoing with residual birdsong. The other to darkness, cloaked in mist, where naked trees loomed overhead like a canopy of murderers, intentions ill. The signpost…[Read more]

Halfway through the month and still loads of time to get an entry in to this month’s comp.

If you have a setting waiting to be explored, a weird and wonderful character aching to be brought to life, a misbelief to be addressed, or general mayhem, murder and malice, now’s your chance.

Don’t be shy…

I remember …

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood …

except it wasn’t the wood that was yellow but the fallen leaves, many of which were tinged with gingerbread brown. And it wasn’t a road they covered but a track. At least, one was a track. Green grass centred and, from the narrowness of then wet mud indentations, cartwheeled. Which thought too…[Read more]

@Seagreen, the ‘lightweight’ of your entry was in the well-chosen words; that they so well-expressed the solidity, the impact of that moment was the really clever bit. Thank you for this explanation.