The earth had traversed around the sun three times since she had last visited the sacred grove.
It was no longer a grove by any definition, more like a ghost of one, an echo of trees buried deep beneath the barren ground. She could sense the anguish of roots parched and withered, of seeds starved before they had a chance to bud, of tender shoots never allowed to unfurl a leaf or lift their faces to the sun. The stillness betrayed the absence of birds, of life.
She despaired, cried, cursed. This was an abomination. And someone was going to pay.
Very evocative imagery
Nice writing with great imagery.
It seems like the beginning of a much longer piece. I’d like to read more.
So true of too many places – and no one pays!
I love this piece. The imagery is excellent. I’d rather say someone has to mediate.
I don’t understand what happened? Was the grove destroyed? If so, by whom? And why? The imagery is good, lots of anguished raging, but I don’t know why ‘she’ is so upset.
And for the opening sentence, what is wrong with: ‘It had been three years since she had last visited the sacred grove’? Because at first I assumed it was three days…