Thursday, April 30, 2015

awaken in the forest loam

Somewhere in the distance, beyond the range of ceaseless crickets, came the dim echo of a scream. With some effort he forced open a bleary eye. Feebly, the other eyelid squinted past tremors to allow in sinking twilight.

Breathing came heavily and with half-remembered effort. Shaking limbs broke through soft soil and pungent pine needles. The sharp shock of scent snapped his cold brain into time with his now beating heart.

Effluvial dreams of soft moss and slow decay slowly sloughed away; memories of a shattered life displaced the sweet, wet dreams of gentle entropy. Sorrow and unfair twists of fate sent ancient, indignant rage surging through his hollow chest.

He was not really thus. It, it was a thing of old, sad hatred and moss wrapped bones. It was a thing of rotten bits and forest loam and unforgotten slights.

A second scream pierced the night much clearer, much nearer. The thing’s horrid face built of blood soaked mud, rotten logs, and rotten teeth grinned without joy. The hunt was upon them.

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