It was the one‌
L. L. L.
Leah-Lyuba Livshits
I
N THE BEGINNING, THERE WERE ONLY VAGUE WISPS of recollections of bright lights and the smell of luscious green. As I grew older, more details stuck in my mind, like the sound of crumpled wrapping paper and my brother’s shouts of innocent joy. Each winter, I would listen to stories about the most perfect and magical being living in a dense forest. But to me, it all seemed too fantastic and impossible - one of those myths or legends aimed to stun and amaze that my brother liked to retell. In time, though, I would learn it was all real. I roamed the forest in search of something I only had an idea of. My body was wrapped in layers upon layers of clothing, my face left bare - a singular weakness in my cozy cocoon. As the sun set and the evening began to cloak the orange-yellow-pink sky, my cheeks were fully flushed from the cold and my lips were left chaffed from the fierce wind trying to unravel my fortress made of wool and polyester-covered goose feathers. In the distance I could hear my family calling my name; it was time to go home. Despite my protection,
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"It'd be funny if
