The mire had many moods, many colours and many names. Each person visiting, day tripping, fishing or camping saw it in their own way. It appeared different to them because it was. 
Straying from the path was dangerous, so read the signs, rotten and tilted along the edge of the road. Hardtop disintegrated into gravel and gave way to mud. Pathways diverted here and there, some strewn with shotgun shells, others with candy wrappers. The one she had chosen that day led through dappled sunlight, rotten boards beneath her feet took her to the hammock. 
Long hours Athena had spent … Read more at the source.
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