My dad always told me whenever I took the walk through the passage in the forest to watch out for drop bears. Making me feel relaxed when I walked through the gloom that was that past of the forest.
He was joking I know, but I wasn’t. There were things living in the trees, and they weren’t a figment of my imagination.
Several times I had encountered them. The rustle of movement above, the indiscernible scent and that terrifying sense of someone watching you.
Needless to say, my journeys to grandma’s house on the other side of the forest were always done in a hurried fashion.
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