That Beating Drum

The leaves on the trees around her curled in on themselves. Green colors of spring faded into the amber flames of fall until finally they turned winter brittle and brown. Dead. They fell to pieces. Disintegrated into crisp puzzle pieces of what they used to be. The distinct smell of compost rolled through the clearing. The gnarled branches of the trees looked like the crooked shaking hands of the Earth as they reached towards the sky and prayed for some relief. They found none. This podcast is written and read by the author. The typed version of this podcast can be found on patreon.com/rachelnohrer You can support the artist on patreon, anchor, or tip them on twitch. Music heard in this episode is from soundcloud.com/nyctomusic