Silver Tears Trickling

Ben nods and I run to the window. The curtain still prickles with hidden electricity but I push it aside, not even gasping at the tingle that runs through my arm. He is right. The tree lies across the lawn, spreadeagled and destroyed.

A sob rises up in my throat.

It looks so helpless - that strong, live tree, now defeated and dead. Its leaves are charred black, as are its branches.

In the moonlight, the tears that fall from my cheeks are silver.

The End

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