Excerpt for The Lost Little Rabbit Girl by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

The Lost Little Rabbit Girl

A short tale

by Mick C. Sylvestre

Published by Mick C. Sylvestre at Smashwords

ISBN: 978-0-9950093-8-7

Owned, written, typesetting and copyright by Mick C. Sylvestre

Cover Illustration by Jeri Weaver (of Gurukitty Studios).

Thanks to my close friend & editor: Jose Mari Armengol Lee

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.


For those that are still defining their place in the world.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter I

In a small, remote village a long, long time ago, the locals there still tell the tale of a lost little girl in a nearby forest. So sad and lost was she that at night many spoke of her constant crying from somewhere deep within the ancient forest. Tired of hearing the mysterious girl’s lamenting, the village leader and a small band of locals decided to venture deep into the jungle until they found her and took her home. All day in the summer heat, they searched high and low for her in the jungle. As night came, those that didn’t turn back took up their torches and headed deeper than anyone in the village had ever done before. With them, they brought some food and water, a few clay amulets (for protection) and some machetes, but none of them was as prepared to go as far as they had that night. Looking back, even the woodsman and the hunters shuttered at the thought of how deep into the forest the rescue party had gone.

The party, determined to find the lost little girl, slipped their way over the mossy rocks, they stepped over roots and vines that coated the jungle floor. With machetes in their sweaty hands, they hacked away the clinging vines and clambered under and over roots as thick as an adult’s body. The instant they cut passed beyond the thick floral curtain; the vines behind them spurted with growth until it slowly sealed the way they came. After what felt like hours of searching through hollow trees and scaring off the exotic fauna, they came upon a clearing. Above the broken canopy was a bright and cloudless moon. In the center of this a canopy of vines and mould-covered trees, they stopped before a pool as blue as the open sea. The spray from the water was cold on the skin, so refreshing pleasant. How could such a body of water exist when there was no ocean nearby to feed the pond its fresh cerulean waters?

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