in the woods

The sun has begun to rise. Colours dance around the sky and jump wildly from cloud to cloud, glitter spilling from above. Almost touching the heavens, the pine trees reach out to the sky, begging to be apart of it. Their branches try to grasp one another, desperate for another one’s touch. Tendrils of greenery sprout towards one another, creating a pocket inside. In their embrace lie birds nests, completely away from harm. Joyfully, the birds start to sing. They sing as if their life depends on it and by doing so, awake the whole woods. The flowers stretch and yawn, bunnies hop amongst the bones and butterflies wipe their eyes. The bones. They are everywhere. How they got here, I can’t say for sure. There are so many, but all have one thing in common; incredibly small feet. A shiver falls down me like a fairy out of a beehive. I place my feet as carefully as possible as I tiptoe forward, trying not to disturb nature. The sky continues to dance as the wood wakes up around me. I take a deep breathe of the glowing air as thoughts begin to race through my head. I was supposed to be out of these woods by sunrise; I’m nowhere near out yet. The sun continues to rise as I continue to panic, my breaths getting quicker and quicker. Nobody really knows what happens when the woods wake up; no one has gotten out. Bones are everywhere. Bones that belong to those trying to escape. They start to glow, shimmer, almost calling me to join them. It feels like a maze, going on and on with no end. Bunnies suddenly speed up, butterflies swarm away. I need to get out. I need to leave now! I change my path, following a brown and yellow bunny leaping over the bones. Out of nowhere, human feet sprout from below the small creature, overtaking its whole body. Glitter is falling from the sky heavier now, blurring my vision. With the new addition of the human feet, the bunny is hooning ahead. Then it happens. One moment I’m running, the next, on the ground. I know I need to keep going, so I force myself back onto my feet only to find myself back on the ground. Crying out in frustration, I look behind me to the bottom of my legs, to my feet. But they aren’t there. A sound somewhere between a gasp and a sob escapes my mouth. What’s on the end of my legs is soft and fluffy, brown with speckles of glowing yellow. They are around the size of a strawberry. The rabbit has stolen my feet, leaving me with its tiny ones.