A clearing in the dense, auburn forest.

On that Spring morning, over sixteen years ago, a dense blond forest began to stretch its roots through the plains that was my scalp. But in the deepest part of the woods, a petite clearing that was shaped roughly like a bunny's head stood out; it was pink, glowing almost, as if some mystic presence occupied that region of my head; the ground there was scarred, as if bloodied. Even when winter came and all the blond leaves fell from their root, nothing agreed to grow there. Soon the forest grew back and darker than ever, a pitch black contrasting the pink rabbit's head. The forest grew thick, and kept the pink clearing secret from the entire world. As if aged, the black lost its density and soon became an auburn color; with each season it would change in hue. As if as immortalized as the clearing, the forest still remains that color to this day. That is, until each tree came down with the flash of the blade. And now, proud as ever, that pink bunny shines brightly for the whole world to see, to get its one last joyride in life before being claimed once more by the forest of deep auburn. Even now, evidence of the wood's rebirth is apparent; the pink rabbit's sunset is close at hand, until the next time when sunlight shine upon it again.
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-Sachi
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