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Lost Girl

Still, the ambience of the forest lurks. Where once lively boots ruffled the undergrowth there is now a quiet emptiness; all that echoes is a soft breeze gently stroking a flailing yellow and black tape. The dense surrounding of pure white bark has been robbed of its colour—a sea of crumpled crimson lies on the ground below, all but lifeless if not for the wind’s cold, playful hands.

With a sudden tenacity, a brave blackbird skims the canopy before perching on a lonely branch overlooking the scene. Its bleeding eyes swiftly yet firmly cover the area, it seems as though this place has been abandoned. In amongst a vast array of birch trees, all otherwise lined up neatly into a matrix, is a hole. A single space isolated within a pool of synchronised growth.

The bird notices something. A tiny glint of sparkling light catches itself in the creature’s pupil. Crinkling sensations arouse the bird’s feet as it lands abruptly in the centre of the hollow gap in the forest. Its neck snaps to the side and its eyes jolt to find the light again. Two short hops to the left over the lightly frosted vegetation bring the bird to its target.

A small jewelled earring with a childlike design lies poking out through the hardened mud. The bird pecks forward and clasps the object in its beak, before taking off and flying away.


Flash Fiction by Daniel Jervis
Picture: Lost earring by rjp under CC BY 2.0

Published in Spring 2017