Where the Dark Stands Still

by A.B. Poranek

The clearing is far lovelier than she expected, almost suspiciously so. Overhead, the sky is wreathed by slender birches, their branches parting like theatre curtains to show a concert of stars. A few of their golden leaves scatter across the ground, bumping into soft ferns and tall, wide-brimmed toadstools. A waterfall dominates the clearing: a slender, humming entity sparkling beneath a shaft of moonlight, tumbling into a deep pool before thinning into a stream. The pool is lined with stones held together by the roots of a weeping willow, speckled with moss and five-petalled flowers that glitter as if painted in starlight.

Wtf that’s the most beautiful description I have ever read