50 Word Stories: The Convenience of Skirts

Well, it is almost Halloween. 


Willow trees have always held a certain allure. When the wind blows through a willow’s skirts, you catch a fleeting glimpse of perfect nature like the tide at midnight or the moon on a clear blue day. Some call it beauty, although I call it convenient. I buried you underneath.

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16 thoughts on “50 Word Stories: The Convenience of Skirts

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