Mother woke up with a start. The house was too quiet, too empty, and as she glanced out the window and saw the tiny distant lights, she knew. She raced out of her room, her house, her village as she screamed, as her feet ached in the freezing snow underneath. Soon others were running behind, calling after their own children, as she ran towards that awful tree, well into the middle of the breathless dark forest.
When she reached the big pine tree only the oil lamps hung on its branches, a couple still rocking, as if to say “you almost made it, you almost did”. She could barely make out the nine dark figures as they flew into the silent clouds and vanished.
A quick Christmas illustration for folioart. Happy holidays, everyone!