My personal Hell


I wake up in a serine wood.
I look around to find some form of civilization.
I see the crisp, falling leaves off the trees that reside beside the road.
I am in disbelief that this can possibly be hell
I find a lone, Victorian age house.
I walk up to the door.

An old woman answers.
When she sees me, she runs inside.
To get her gun.

I’m a goose.
And I’m in Canada.

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