Tansy Undercrypt
Author, Illustrator, Purveyor of Doom & Whimsy

Path

September 30th 2017 in Microfiction

The owls came and she dreamt of walking in the forest, the earth cool beneath her bare feet. They hooted softly, nestled in the branches that reached out over the house and, in her dream, she pulled a letter from her vest pocket. She walked to the base of an ancient oak and placed the letter into an opening in the wood. The owls, keeping watch in all directions, moved as close as they dared to the tips of the branches, peering down into the bedroom window as she slept. She turned away from the tree, trusting that all was well and feeling a cool breeze upon her face. “I see and I know,” she had written in the letter, “and I choose a new path.” Beneath her feet, the earth turned to stone, then wood, then polished marble, changing until it found something that suited her and she walked on. The owls flew off, one by one, back into the forest and to their own rest, as dawn appeared at the edge of the sky. Waking to her alarm, she stretched and sat very still, feeling different. “I think I’m officially done with the bullshit,” she whispered to the rising sun, knowing that it was true.


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I’m called “Mark” just as often as I’m called by my Christian name and I answer to both. It suits me fine.
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