Don’t step on the Flowers

When I was young, I used to travel the woods near our home in Hrafnvik, my Ma and Da would send me out for forage to add to dinner. I always loved the woods, the birds, the deer, the squirrels.

Often I was alone.

Not paying attention to my surroundings.

I saw a beautiful selection of flowers before me, and as I moved closer to identify them, I tripped on a root and squished some of them flat, I could swear I heard a tiny screaming sound.

It must have been my imagination, I was pretty imaginative after all. I collected what I could and began to walk home, but this time…

The birds were gone, the squirrels had quieted, and the deer had fled.

I was all alone, until I wasn’t.

Before me stood a being, otherworldly and mysterious, not a person or a plant, but other. It berated me and I fled crying.

I was only a child, I knew not what I had done.

I am still running.

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