Flash Fiction: Roland, the Unused Christmas Tree.

“Be still, Roland. Don’t move.” His mother spoke low. Roland pulled his energy in, trying to not be enticing in any way. But it didn’t work. “Dear God, no.” She trembled as the men circled her son. One, wearing a red coat, spoke strange, garbled words they couldn’t understand, then raised a giant axe. “Noooooo!” …

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