It was a strange thing to come by in the middle of the forest. Amongst the ancient trees and a thick carpet of green moss was a table with two matching chairs whittled out of tree stumps. Each chair was tucked neatly and considerately under the table. There were no people or houses for miles …
Tag Archives: Childhood
Fiction: ‘Molly’
She reaches down into the well, grasping the rope tightly with both hands. Every thread of the rope has turned brown and stiff with age. Inch by inch, new segments of rope come into view from the echoing depths, until finally a bucket mottled with rust appears over the edge of the well. She lifts …
Writing on Tangents 