Sunlight doesn’t like this place very much. Of course, the ubiquitous rays are also drawn here, but with some inexplicable reluctance. The light seems to bend around withered branches and bare ground, preferring to look elsewhere. Because of this strange behavior of the sun’s rays, this grove is always twilight. Such twilight is usually found on a cloudy winter day, when the sun, hidden behind clouds all day, has almost set below the horizon, still invisible.
Grass hasn’t grown here for a long time. The trees growing close together, as if huddling close to each other, seemed to have forgotten that they could grow foliage. The vast grove stood there, shamelessly balding, and attracted the gaze of everyone passing by.
But other than looks, no one did anything with the grove. As if it had come out of a children’s cartoon about forest monsters, it inexplicably scared away any passerby, instilling a nagging fear in his heart and unprecedented speed in his legs. No birds flew here, and no animals tried to settle here.
So this grove stood here, untouched, eerie. As if the old woman Death herself had settled in her, touching the landscape with her decayed hand. Everything was dead here, and nothing could disturb the mortal silence. It seemed that the dry branches did not even sway in the wind, and the ground did not get wet even from the pouring rain.
There is a village not so far from the grove. Small, especially alive, filled with children’s laughter and the hard work of adults. Children often frolic around in vast areas, but they avoid the grove. Even the boys, who usually love to argue among themselves about who will spend the most time in a creepy place, did not try to touch this place.
The grove seemed torn out of reality. They didn’t talk about her or remember her, stubbornly averting their gazes, which tried to slide between the withered trunks and penetrate inside, into the frightening darkness. It stood there for a very long time, and even the oldest person in the village remembers well how he was wary of the mysterious place as a child. It seemed that today’s children would have grandchildren, and those children would have their own; the village would sooner or later be abandoned and forgotten for centuries – and the grove would stand, stand, and remind every witness that there is nothing eternal in the world except death itself.
And in the depths of the grove, where no human foot had set foot for decades, and where no curious gaze could reach, a wooden grave cross was dug into the ground. There were no inscriptions or signs on it. Only a cross, empty and lifeless, like the grove itself. And it was unclear to whom it was placed – the body under it, or the dead earth abandoned by God around.
My next creation is a little more https://wayyycasino.co.uk/games/ pleasant, nostalgic I would say) Whoever guesses what kind of toy prompted nostalgia, I’ll give you something tasty, but don’t swear if it’s not GTA V..
The forest, it stretches in the bed of a river that has long dried up, in the middle of this fragrant smell and riot of bright green vegetation there is a ship. Old, in places rust shows through the white paint, but he is waiting for the day when he will float, he is not afraid of the corrosion of emaciated walls and dried oil. He waits, inside the old cabins have not lost all the richness of their decoration. White curtains match the beds and carpets, golden embroidery on the pillows reflects the light of the rising sun. And most importantly, there is no stuffiness here. The wind blows calmly and capriciously everywhere, it walks through the cabins, plays with doors and curtains. When the moon reigns in the sky and the wolves again and again pay homage to it, the ship comes to life. Passengers dressed in masquerade costumes and their masked gentlemen again walk through its cabins. They dance, one dance after another gives way to another, until the moon again surrenders its powers to the sun and the wind again replaces these eternally cheerful gentlemen.
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