Despite my best efforts to the contrary, I’ve managed to (yet again!) enter the Scottish Book Trust’s 50 Words competition. It’s been a nice series of exercises and I feel like it’s spurred me to write more elsewhere.
The prompt for this one was to write a story that takes place in an enchanted forest.
One morning we noticed that the trees had all gone, pulled up their roots and creaked away in the night.
Why did they leave? There was an explanation etched by a branch in the turf.
Not that any of us could read Treelish.