Stonehenge

You could hear them!
The trees rustling, booming against their long tree trunks looming over the mossy rocks piled over each other in a circular church-like ceremony gathering. Stonehenge whistled and battered, leaning scarily towards the ground. I forged my bony arms towards the ancient rocks. I managed to grab hold of one and roughly pushed it in place. AAH CREEK! It broke into sharp fractures squashed into the viney grass. Suddenly...
As the blur of confusion whizzed my mind, winds tortured my flushed cheeks. I cluttered tiptoeing into the long rows of oak trees, squeaking deafeningly as I meandered through the eerie, dilapidated labyrinth. An adventurous mood took up the narrow, rocky and twisted pathway making its way through the horses banging their metal hooves on the rear end of the maze. Elderly women seemed to hypnotise you, as they sang
“Double, double, toil and trouble.” repeatedly...
Zap! A round tunnel turned me through it. I fell and smashed onto the ground.
“Wha, wha, what?” I asked. No-one replied, to my liking the moon sparkled and illuminated the chilly tunnel. I trudged tiredly in the creamy mud. Muffled creaks emanated from the dark cave. A puff of smoke bolted up in the night sky.
While the wind surged behind her, her skeletal frame scampered through the rows of trees. Miranda’s damp, auburn wavy hair brushed her rosy cheeks. The spiky fluff of the inside of her moccasins rubbed against her bony ankles as she scampered through the rainforest. Loneliness filled the depressed forest as I ripped through the gnarled branches. Towering over her long face, a dread of sour coldness rushed through my mind as a silhouette of a dim figure in the distance, calling dreadfully,
“Miranda, Miranda I am your mother!” Singing, she arrived a lonely sweet voice like her mother. “Mum!” She called and wrapped her thin arms around her. She had memories of the day she read the letter of her mother’s death. The feeling finally felt right.
A shiver of joy urged me forwards, a frizzled look of sadness disturbed the cheerful mood. Mother’s thin legs started to move. Nothing made sense, but to run. Cold stares rushed towards me. I came to a holt, one shaking hand carried a framed photo of mum in an ivory silky layered dress and a man.
“Dad” She murmured. “You left when I was 1!” I give a soft kiss on mum’s left cheek and whisper. “I know.” I didn’t know what to think, but this matters to me more than dad. He loved me. He left because of me. I was his princess, but he didn’t want me knowing that he was a scientist and went to find the tomb of Cleopatra, but he died.
I realized this all made sense! The letter was dad’s, the death letter! Oh yes! I squeeze mum’s hand and thought.
“This is my family, not dad.” I start to think that mum is really the one, she is my family.

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