They were there on purpose. But whether they were placed there or left there was unknown. Had there once been a forest of trees, these few left simply for…for what? Or had it always been a grassy plain, with these dozen trees carefully tended until they could survive on their own?
It had been a long walk to find the place. The journey was made longer because she had no idea where the end was, or how far the journey would be.
The sky was monochrome. She couldn’t tell if it was consistently overcast, or if it was clear and this was simply the color of the sky in this place.
The air was thin. It had been uphill, all the way, even to the bitter end.
The trees marked the horizon perfectly. The trunks met the ground precisely where the ground met the sky. It must be some kind of optical illusion, because they stayed that way even when she was finally among them. She looked to the right. The line of trees met the horizon. She looked to the left and saw the same. No sea, no vast landscape, no gently sloping path leading her down into the next…
There was nothing. She looked back the way she had come. It was open to her, yet there was no going back. That was the path she had taken. It was not meant to be retraced. It was not meant to be regretted.
Ahead of her, the unknown. The undefined.
And so she leapt.
This story was written for the Write On Edge week 10 prompt that was the picture. I ignored the quote. It did not speak to me.
This one turned out much more poetic than most of my stuff, but it intrigues me… what do you think?
Concrit is welcome!