Can’t See the Forest for the Trees

One photo, one hundred words, one fearless leader. Friday Fictioneers is brought to you each Wednesday by Rochelle (don’t ask questions). The photo this week is courtesy of John Nixon.

© John Nixon

© John Nixon

“I’ve seen this before.”

“Of course you have, Tash,” Oliver sighed. “We’re going in circles.”

“That’s not it,” Tasha said, looking around at the serpentine trees.

“We’re not going in circles?”

“I don’t know, Oliver. You wanted to do this.”

“Pastor Steve said there’s some ancient temple out here. You want to go all the way back home without seeing anything other than shacks?” Oliver crossed his arms.

“No, but we could have found a guide. Or a map.” Tasha felt the hairs on her arms prickle. A branch brushed her arm.

Flesh, fresh flesh, the tree crooned.
Tasha screamed.

Like they I always say, it’s not Friday Fictioneers unless someone dies. Click the link below to read some stories with less (or more) killer endings.

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34 thoughts on “Can’t See the Forest for the Trees

  1. I don’t mind the body count, darling, and the FLESH FLESH FLESH made my flesh flesh flesh crawl. (I am getting a wee bit tired — and I think I might just say something — of the husband kills cheating wife misogynist tales, or vice versa. Seems like we could write better things that that week in and week out.)

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