The Girl Without a Past

One of my earliest stories. He walked past the trees, heading toward the source of light, and suddenly, under his hands, a bush crumbled away—as if it had been dried out long ago, as if it had been made of ash. The man looked back: one more step and the trees and grass were alive and green again, and the circle he had entered was as if dried up. The bushes and trees were dead, gray, and crumbled to dust the moment you touched them.