I decided to re-do Silence, a story I posted a long time ago.
You could say silence is a good thing. You could say death is a good thing. You could say the dark is a good thing. In the forest, you don’t think these things. You don’t think silence, or death, or the dark can ease your mind. You think silence, and dark, lead to death.
The night was stormy and cold. The rain pattered on dirt ground, creating mud and puddles. The animals scurried to their dens, caked in water. Lighting flashed, thunder rumbled. The fox slept. His eyes, blue and gold, flashed open in the dead of the night as a click resounded through the empty forest.