The Hallowed Hollow

The journey to reach this- her lowest point- seemed to have taken her whole life. Aye, but it didn't feel as long as that slow dragging slide of her spine down the trunk of the Old Hornbeam Tree.

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That godsend of a strong ally which seemed to have waited its entire existence to catch her like a perfect old gentleman. A Gentleman, who quietly hushed her with it's whispering branches, pined it's entire time to gingerly sprinkle a few leaves like handkerchiefs as she wept for a life she no longer wanted.

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Even the other dead hornbeams about her seemed changed... entrusting their empty selves to her as she to them; all parties in gentle knowing catharsis. For there is nothing more hollow than the promise made to ourselves which we have not kept...

A Behind the scenes look illustrating for the little ghost story "The Hallowed Hollow". Using the 'dipping fountain pen'.