Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes

Fifth August Blog.

****** ” Cara stubbed her boot against a fallen tree trunk. The rotting corpse showered her foot with dusty debris adding to the brown leaf litter on the floor of the copse. The smell of decay rose into the air around her, infesting her nose. Cara half sneezed. Her mouth ingested the taste of death. Holding a tissue to her face, she coughed to rid her mouth of the taste. It wasn’t that the taste was that unpleasant, it was just that she was allergic to rotting wood. And yet, a gentle walk through the trees was what she always did when problems arose. A therapeutic exercise, a chance to give her brain a rest from stress.

Orange and browning leaves fluttered down around her, like so many dead petals in a forgotten rose garden. So sad that trees had to lose their finery, she thought. Their…