Thanks to everyone stopping by last week and a special thanks to those who left a comment. I really appreciate it.
I’m re-posting a story which I started a many years ago. It’s written in first POV, which has been a challenge to say the least. So, some of you may know the story already, but I’d appreciate constructive critique ☺
Yes, Beauty Creek in Tasmania is the place I was born and grew up. The name says it all, beautiful scenery along a small creek. And Mum always said it very much reminded her of her home in Germany. The forest is full of deciduous trees with their leaves falling in autumn in herald of the coming winter. I loved walking along the path with her, gazing at the leaves above that had changed their colour from green to a burning red or dying yellow, or down on the ground, crackling under our feet. However, the creepiest part was, when she tried to make the sound of the wind rustling through the trees.
I really miss her.
Thanks for all your comments,
I do appreciate each single one of them!
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