The Fantasy Forest

By Ruairi Phillips

The smell of deep, soulful, bright red roses filled the air. Chirping of newborn chicks acknowledged the squirrels seeking nuts. Only the exhausted, gloomy, and sympathetic donkey was peaceful. The dirt-filled ground oozed with a smell so disgusting it made the sunflowers die. The Long grain grass contaminated the air with fragments of seeds. The echoing sound of oaks and birch tress swept across the forest as they were pulled from the roots. The joyful lampshade extended across the kingdom, delivering light for ducks and swans to grace the ground. The quacking sound of field mice making their way home to their borrow, are filtered throughout the meadows. As the moon takes over the suns shift, the forest goes silent.

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