#locallegends

In the daytime, it looks harmless — cool shadows, thick branches, sunlight breaking in thin, careful lines. But when evening settles, the trees lean closer together, and the air feels heavier, as if it is listening.

The forest remembers.

In the early eighties, a boy walked into it and never walked out.

No one knows what drew him there. Some say he heard his name drifting between the trunks. Some say the path simply changed beneath his feet. That afternoon, the birds stopped singing long before the sun went down.

They searched for days.

They called his name until their voices broke. They left lanterns glowing along the trail. They waited for an answer.

The forest did not answer.

A few days later, another boy went in.

He carried a small shield — a toy from some half-forgotten costume — held tight against his chest like something real. He said nothing to anyone. He only walked.

He did not return either.

What they found first was the tree.

An old trunk, darker than the others. From one low branch hung a purple hat stitched with small yellow stars, slumped as if it had grown tired of holding its shape. At the base of the tree, a small shield lay on the ground, tilted slightly in the dirt.

Three days later, they found the boys.

They were sitting side by side, backs resting against the bark, heads bowed as if mid-conversation. Their hands were close enough to touch.

Some say the second boy found the first and chose to stay.

Some say he saw him standing deeper in the trees, just beyond the reach of light.

Some say the forest does not take — it invites.

Since that summer, that part of the woods has never quite healed.

Leaves fall there too soon.

Grass grows darker.

Fireflies gather thick around that tree, flickering like quiet stars that never rise to the sky.

And if you stand there long enough, when the night is still and the air is thin, you might hear laughter between the branches.

Soft. Distant. Almost happy.

No one goes there after sunset anymore.

Because the forest remembers.

And sometimes, it calls you gently.

"Stop worrying, the hands have the petting zoo well under control, and March is looking after the horses. You promised me this year was going to be just for us." The holidays were one of the longest stretches of time off that she got, and usually it was full of endless work with the ranch and farm, helping happily at her husband's side. But this Christmas, she wanted calm, quiet, relaxation.

My twitch

In which I challenge myself to a full 4* clear - plus traveler. Xiangling in a Chevreuse team performs very well first side, Second I opted for hyperfridge, mostly bc of shieldbreak first chamber.

He sniffed and wiped the snot from his nostrils with the sleeve of his shirt.  “Nobody ever believes me.” he decried-quietly to himself, huddled in a disheartened wad of filthy-boy between his knees.  He picked at the grit between the stones at his feet sniffing again for disappointment.

“I believe you...” came a ren’dorie voice in answer from the nearby doorway of Dalaran’s only petshop.  The boy looked up as Rhys stuffed a small purse back into his belt pocket.

“You some kind’a creeper mister?” the youth questioned rudely, squinting up into the midday sun and Rhys’ kindly-smiling demeanor.

“I suppose that depends on your point of view my little friend.” he teased as the soft click of gold coins tumbled in his hand.  “...tell me what you saw and the.” he narrowed his eyes searching the boy with heavier scrutiny than might have been necessary.  The youth’s eyes flit between the fist of promised coin and the man’s penetrating gaze.

“...for real mister?” the boy whined with skeptical judgement cocking a brow - he had plainly dealt with a few adults in time and harbored his own well founded suspicions.  “How I know it’s real?”

Rhys smiled and held his hand tightly around he coin. “As I doubt you are an economist, you’ll have to exercise some trust won’t you?” he chuckled then opened his palm to the boy as he stepped down and out of the pet-shop and knelt int he cobblestone walkway with him.  The young boy’s eyes widened and he smiled into the glittering golden promise of a tummy ache in his future.  Greed filled the little boys mind and he did what all little scamps would do and shot a small lightening-fast set of fingers to the task of snatching Rhys’ offer prematurely.

“Ah ahh!” Rhys teased in warning as his own deft fingers snapped shut over the coins again and tightly.  “Come now... tell me what you saw and where.” he withdrew his hand from the boy and held it to his chest smiling in practiced fashion.  The youngster pouted briefly but Rhys resolve was unshakable and the boy quickly relented the notion of half now.

“Alrighty mister...” the boy began as he resigned himself to the telling of the tale. “...you ever seen a white deer with one horn in the middle of their head?” Rhys cocked a brow and shook his head to indicate that he had not.  “... I have!” the boy’s troubled expressions washed away and he spoke in a dreaming fashion, as the re-telling stole him away for the magic of the memory.  He told his tale of wandering discovery... and Rhys listened.

Pist Idiots by Pist Idiots

SKEGSS - GOT ON MY SKATEBOARD

Byron Bay three-piece surf rock band Skegss have just premiered their newest film clip for their recently released single ‘Got On My Skateboard.’ Starring none other than one of our favourite stand-up comics and Aussie treasure Aaron Gocs making his way down town, skating fast, faces passing etc; the clip really does take you back to sun-filled days spent loitering through your hometown without a care in the world. Complete with scene sinking a choccy Big M.