Flash Fiction: How Special Are You?

Painted by muses. Only the special see the world beyond the mural. Step into the forest if you dare. Most end up with a bloody nose — a collision with brick, you must believe. Look carefully, at dusk and twilight, during eclipses and storms, the leaves whisper on the trees and the ducks flap their wings. Sometimes a light flickers in the cottage window. Did you miss it? Did you blink? Maybe you’re not special…

“Maybe you’re full of sh—”
“Go on, try it. Run into the mural it’s real. I swear…”
Smack.
Laughter.
“Hey, when did the light turn on?”