Micro Fiction: The Path 16 October 2, 2020 by Elizabeth Drake Eva pinched herself, but she was still in the strange clearing, and the bird was still there, still staring at her. Fear surged back through her, and Eva’s fingers felt colder than a Michigan lake in February. “I’m losing it,” she muttered. Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)MoreClick to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)Like this:Like Loading... Related