Dancer for the Trees

She was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Everything about her filled me with awe. She moved with such grace that I knew I had to be in the presence of a goddess.


I saw her one night, on accident. I was wandering through the woods, completely lost, when I came upon a clearing. She was there, dancing. I don’t know her name, or much of anything about her, but I do know she was amazing. She danced the most intricate dance, lit by a moon so bright, the forest was her stage.

I was enraptured by her wondrous dance, she felt part of the forest. No, she wasn’t nude. Nothing so cliché as that. She wore a long, flowing dress of tans and greens. It seemed as if it was made of the forest. She danced, she smiled, and the trees seemed to smile with her. I stayed the whole night, feeling the contentedness of the forest.

I returned to the clearing night after night and every night, she was there, dancing. The moon loved her, and I grew to love her as well. It became a regular habit of mine, and she was always there for me, until she wasn’t.

The forest was much darker that night. There was no moon that night, and I lost myself in the winding maze of trees. When I finally reached the clearing, it was like a grave. I looked up and there was no moon. I looked down and there was no woman. She did not dance for the trees that night. The trees were scowling at me. There were skittering pale creatures and inked shadows at the edges of my vision. The clearing whispered sinister-sweet death into my ear and I grew afraid. I left that place with all haste. I learned the truth about the forest that night, and the truth about her.

I never returned.

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