A gentle walk through the forest, it was a wet mundane evening. The iron sky was falling asleep as the bitter night set in; the trees of the enchanting forest were swaying in the wind. No leaves, all bone. Promenading through, I tripped, plummeting, spinning downwards, with twigs and rocks penetrating my flesh. My head was pulsating and my heart was overworking acting like a malfunctioning mechanism. Agony, coldness possessed me. I could feel insects burying into my skin, becoming one with nature, I tried yelling out. Isolated, being buried alive by falling leaves; as death came to take me.
by Holly French (15)
The Duston School, Northampton
Competition - Grim Tales
Copyright remains with the author.