#crookedforest

Mysterious Facts About The Crooked Forest of Poland

Crooked Forest is where you will find around 400 pine trees are abnormally shaped with full 90-degree bends at their bases that curve towards the north. From its base, the trees bend into a “C” shape, it follows the same curve up to nine feet sideways before bending back to a straight shape.

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Norah

by

Agatha Willowgrove

         Norah looked out the window. The sky was covered by a gray, satin blanket of clouds. The rain began to fall, a strange comfort in her time of sorrow. She knew with an almost frightening sense of certainty that she had made the right decision. However, that sureness did little to cope with the tumult of emotions that threatened to burst forth any moment. Why couldn’t she cry? Even now. Alone in her modest excuse for an apartment. She wrapped her sweater tighter around her body and, with eyes devoid of interest, surveyed the now vacant park next door.

        Torrents of rain were mercilessly slamming against her windows. Wind whipped the trees and hedges. Small rivulets of rainwater ran down hillsides and through gutters, draining into the river. She watched as the remains of a quickly abandoned picnic lunch were blown across the neatly cut grass. She noticed carnations had been planted near the river, all along the well-worn, cobbled path. The petals shone resplendent in shades of pink and red and the purest white. Many petals had been torn from their home and scattered across the grass or plunged into the deathly chill of the river’s embrace. Despite the abuse, the flowers stood tall as if in defiance of the storm itself.

        Somewhere, in the back of her mind, a memory stirred and began coming into focus. A slight smile reached Norah’s eyes as she began to hum the melody of a long-forgotten song. As she hummed, she tidied up the kitchen and made a strong cup of coffee. She walked back to the window and stood observing the carnations as she sipped the brew. With a deep sigh and final sweep across the park and around her apartment, she tiptoed downstairs and took a seat at the piano. Her pale, delicate fingers placed the mug on the window sill, and with shaky voice and hammering heart, she began to play.

Beauty and the Beast

by

Agatha Willowgrove

I have to show her who I am beneath. I’m trying in vain to shed my skin. I would tell her my story, but I don’t know where to begin.

It is so unnatural. I hardly believe it myself. I’ve put my past behind me. Left unread like faded books along dusty shelves.

My hopelessness and haggard appearance have made me angry and bitter. My mind is cloudy; thoughts are stormy. My heart is cold as winter.

But even the iciest hearts can become warm again… Warm enough to love. Surely she can melt my heart, my angel from above.

I desperately want to shed my skin, and breaking the spell is the only way. I am a beast, and she is an angel bringing hope with each new day.

I have to shed my skin until all of the anger is gone. I am a beast, and she is an angel bringing love with the dawn.

The Shire

by

Agatha Willowgrove

Green of leaf in crystal sky

Smoke of pipes flying high

Breeze in grass cool and soft

Mugs of ale held aloft

Round doors under hills

Fences wreathed in daffodils

Cobbled steps fore painted doors

Where harry feet walk wooden floors

Merry folk dancing in line

Rafts crossing the Brandywine

Cheerful music drifting on air

Sun beams shining on curly hair

Good times and amber ale

Warm fires and adventurous tales

Working too hard is the only crime

In a simple life in simple times