Christmas Fox, by Guy Fletcher

It was Christmas Eve, sky was a bruised hue as I stared out of my living room window. Raindrops slid down the panes like tears and I felt rather bored.

All of a sudden I spotted a fox on the verdant lawn. This was a truly magnificent creature, white stripe, beady eyes, painted gold like a cornfield. I noticed a magpie ensconced by its ruthless teeth. Yes, this bird was doomed, reminding me that Nature, although beautiful, is ruthless, too.

​I looked again but the fox had scurried away. There was no trace; it had disappeared as if a ghost.


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