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.

&c.

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.

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