Blackberry Thorn

You stand in a small clearing; birds chatter all around you but not a single one can be seen, as if they disappeared long ago and their songs are just an echo of what once was.

Tall, thin trees are rooted into the ground as far as the eye can see. They are as black as coal and wear not a single leaf on their long, spindly branches. Unlike the birds, the leaves can be seen; they now lay peacefully on the ground, blanketing it in a pattern of white and grey which makes your eyes spin.

You spot a single splash of red jumping out at you from the monochrome ground and slowly bend to pick it up. Turning the glossy business card over in your hands you briefly wonder how it ended up here and who it belonged to. Surely birds, even vanishing ones, dont carry business cards.

Squinting at the black text you read one simple sentence:

'You are all that remains.'

A single tear rolls down your cheek and you realise that the birdsong has stopped.