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  • Writer's pictureJames Kidac

I stared sorrow in the face and blinked

The night was dark and stars were out. The crescent was so bright it illuminated the dark canvas around it. The numerous flickering embers danced around the moon and at the same time, there was a campfire outside a tent somewhere which bore a languishing flame that eked out warmth as if forced to as it was too little for comfort. Everyone shivered and huddled around the flame and their gazes set on the burning mess in front of them. None dared to set eyes on the trees as too many stories have been told about the trees around them being the pontagonists of horror and shapes of all evil seem to converge with every tree and every branch linked together. Between moments, cold wind blew into the campsite and into their faces as they faced a wind hell bent on grabbing every item off the site and hurling them into the oblivion of darkness amidst the horrifying entities amidst the trees.

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