Tuesday, 1 October 2013

The Butter Elves

The green leaves were dripping with the wet rain.
The golden sand seemed to go on forever, miles and miles of hot warm grains stretching even further than the eye can see.
The sky is a deep blue, and twinkling with the dazzling glow of the moons.
They are directly next to each other and both full, one of them appears to have a smiley faced almost carved into it, and the other has a frown, and a tear dribbling down, dripping into the sky and down to the ground.
The dog pads along, its paws thudding on the soft grass, the hot sun beats down on it and a sheen of swear forms on its furry back.

The sound of the butter elves can be heard from a thousand miles away, loud and piercing, they are crying, desperate for a response. But the dog is blissfully unaware. 

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