A sea of red rose over the dark outline of the hills, all the world cast in primitive shades of blood and ash. Acacia watched the telephone pole towering over the treetops, seeing it become strange and alien in the light of the setting sun.
Then she turned away, looking out over the dark waves of treetops rising and falling before her – a world without telephone poles, where the only sound was the whistling of the wind – and took a step forward.
This is for Three Line Tales. Thanks to Sonya for running the challenge and Adi Ulici for providing the prompt photo!