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Weekly Contest #320
The woods had been a promise at first — a place to be smaller than her own thoughts. Maya pushed past the manicured trail because the noise of other hikers made her feel like she had to wear a mask. Here, among the pines and the wet rot of fallen leaves, she could unstring herself and see what snapped.Sunlight filtered through the canopy in narrow, shifting bands. The air smelled of damp moss, rusted iron, and old rain. She stepped off the gravel into a nest of ferns, telling herself she’d just look at a patch of wildflowers and come right b...
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