Through the trails foot-cut in the undergrowth to a bedraggled oak where they built their treehouse they hunted for various artefacts in the woodland. Came back with old bits of fencepost threaded with rotting loops of wire and signs warning against trespass and planks peeled from rundown sheds still with the nails in them. They hauled them up into the boughs with a pulley of rope over branch through days and weeks and on the night of its completion they broke for home at the falling of snow.
Overnight it had sprinkled inches and one of the girls returned alone. Under their creation, a noose and a ladder. Surrounding it all waited a semicircle of upholstered folding chairs and a video camera. Its red light like a dying star.
Chalk Snow 