[PATHETIC FALLACY - OXYMORON] A short narrative - written by TAE. The illumination from the abating sun surreptitiously pierced through the dwellers of the woods. And winter, which modifies the note of such trees as they shed their leaves, does not destroy its individuality. The elongated shadows of intertwined branches shape a jagged lane that seemingly leads over the horizon to an unidentified destination. The solitude of the forest floor is unforgiving, it is hard and every step that is taken echoes tenderly amidst the darkness. Halfway up the path, there was a sudden sense of thickened viscosity felt under my numbing bare feet. As I craned my neck to identify this unfamiliar fluid, a feeling of perplex and trepidation imbued through my thumping veins. At the glimpse of light slowly revealed a maroon coloured liquid indifferently flooding against the black forest surface. Blood. My body became motionless against my will, not due to fear but due to sheer aesthetics of the imagery that lay before my eyes. Mesmerized by hitherto unseen nature of blood permeating through parched leaves, the spirit of my breathing, exhale and inhale, succeeded each other slowly but in a furtive manner. As I gazed deeper into this chasm of blood, distant sun was now diminishing into the horizon. Refracting hither and thither what is now an insignificant light, the approaching darkness painted the wet floor into a looking glass.