In a town almost hidden away from the world, but not quite, lies a road that nobody sees. This unseen road, veiled by magic older than time, leads to a forest that nobody finds. The trees are not like those of this world. In fact, you can almost say that the road nobody sees leads to another world. However, since the road that nobody sees ends in the forest that nobody finds, it's safe to say nobody states that theory.
The forest is filled with trees that are wiser than the wisest and older than the oldest. They are magnificent trees, with trunks so thick the wind cannot sway them and so tall they almost rip holes in the sky, but, not quite. If one listens closely, one can almost hear the voice of the wind whispering through the branches and the hum of the leaves as they respond.
On special days, when the sun casts its heavenly light upon the trees, shining through the soft leaves, casting an almost greenish glow on the forest floor, one can hear the trees sing. The wind harmonizes and the birds join in on occasion. At moments like these, the creatures of the forest head to the Wise Father Tree, the oldest and wisest tree of them all. The creatures settle among the branches and, if they cannot climb, along the base. Every one of them sits or lies still and listens to the chorus of the forest around them. Night will fall and still the tress and the wind sing. They sing a song not with words, but with feelings. Feelings that slide deep into ones very soul and can cause great happiness or sorrow.
The forest sings and sighs, its branches moving with the wind's whispers. The chorus continues well into the night, until the last star has twinkled out of existence and the pink rays of the rising sun peek over the horizon,
over the road that nobody sees,
over the town that's partially hidden,
over the forest that nobody finds.