TEXT, part 2

I was hunting down a brace of rabbits, when the hair on my hindquarters stood on end. The air currents shifted and there was the scent of sulfur on the air. I turned to my left to investigate this new aroma and saw – where a small juniper bush ought to have been – two floating words flapping in the wind lazily. The words were backward, like looking in a mirror or pool of water, and the writing was rough and scratchy, as with that of a quill. I circled it and noticed the words were shifting. The writing was becoming loopier and more calligraphic, the text becoming clearer.

When I reached the opposite side of the floating text, the words had become clear and crisp: juniper bush. And then below these words, several more appeared, first in the same rough writing then in clearer and more elaborate script: blooming fully and completely in the sun’s bright rays.

As I admired this phenomenon, there came a scratching sound, like that of a quill on parchment, and then a popping noise, and the words were gone; in their place sat a juniper bush, blooming fully and completely in the sun’s bright rays. Sulfur hung heavily on the air, and the rabbits were gone. The brace was saved not by the bell, but by the bush.