Many places have a heart about them, a gentle feeling where you can say that the way the sun hits the trees produces a glow of magic. And yet—only in the forest of red leaves can we say it’s the moon has the opposite effect. During the day, when the rays of the sun reach the leaves, they shine green. At night, when the suns rays are reflected off the moon, the leaves change color as if by magic. And what other color than the color of passion! A blood red that leaves the world in wonder.

And couples come to see these places, where the light hits fantastically. But the forest of red leaves? It is seldom known by such couples because as soon as the light of day leaves, many shuffle off to bed with each other or otherwise. Many more avoid the sight for fear of the legends that couples who enter the wood never leave with the same as when they came.

Yes.

The lovers who enter the forest leave alone, clutching their chests as if their hearts were shattered into little pieces of glass that cut them inside until they scream in pain and horror, eyes bleeding tears as the forests leaves seem to pull themselves toward the pain, as if the moon’s light draws them to feed on agony. The power of the moon transforms them into fiends that suck the love out of unwitting lovers.

And today, oblivious of the legends, these two entered the forest. They found it together. And with hands in unison, and the red leaves watching in anticipation, they strolled until they found a clearing.

The man stopped the two of them and is thinking of the ring in his pocket, such a fragile cheap thing that he spent months saving to buy.

And the woman, she is waiting for his proposal as she found the ring two weeks earlier while she put away his laundry. Back then, she had thought to herself how silly he must be to have left it in his sock drawer.

Yet, as they are the only two in the forest tonight, they stand ignorant of the legend or that the leaves stare without eyes, waiting to pounce with a lion’s hunger upon their well built love.