The trees were bare, twisting around themselves in a lifeless way. Some leaned, almost sagging with agony, while the rest remained erect, giving only the illusion of vigor. There were six of them; six black, dead trees forming a circle around her grave. Each wailed as the wind thrashed at their degenerate forms. Winter had eradicated autumn, mercilessly ravishing the land of all viability.
Manuscripts: Vol. 79
, Article 15.
Available at: https://digitalcommons.butler.edu/manuscripts/vol79/iss1/15