Time for another round of Weekend Writing Warriors, hosted on Wewriwa. Participants share their 8-10 sentence WIP snippets. Click the link to check out the rules, visit some blogs on the linky and sign up to share your writing.
The Salt Trees is one of those stories that lives in a world I don’t know much about. But it was inspired by fairy tales.
Witch’s spells in fairy tales are meant to be painful, ugly even. In retellings they always look so clean, and pretty. The Salt Trees is sort of my brain’s answer to that.
Gasping, Britta slowed to a walk and turned to gaze fully ahead, to a copse of tall, dark Willow trees. As she approached, a stink hit her, thick with sweat and excrement, but she saw no other sign of people. As she passed between the dark trees, the ground at her feet thrummed, with some mysterious beat. Britta could only stare in shock.
The trees breathed, ropy bark swelling and shrinking. Britta laid a hand on the nearest trunk, then jerked it back. Rough, but warm and oddly pliant, like tanned leather. She swallowed, and gazed above her.
No leaves, but long, strands of hair, dangling from the branches, swaying in the gentle breeze. And the ground vibrated with the steady beating of dozens of hearts.