Until recently, an ancient larch stood in the meadow behind my house. Then one Sunday morning, without notice, the electricity board came and chopped it down. Because some of its branches were swaying too close to their overhead power lines. The larch is our only native deciduous conifer, and, for well over a hundred years, that tree had told the seasons. It was felled and disintegrated within two hours. Now all that remains of it are a few large pieces of trunk which defied maceration. They now lie in the meadow as a daily reminder that we treat nature very badly.
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Isla’s Tale – A WARNING NOT TO READ
8 AprThis short narrative was written as a cross-genre experiment. It is a psychological horror story in a realist context. Many horror stories involve things that are unreal and unlikely but the really horrible horror stories are those that describe things that can actually happen. Things that actually do happen . . .
Anna’s Tale -Another not to read
8 AprThese unpleasant tales contribute to a longer text, all of which will eventually appear on this site.
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