#;snips

[xdestromania-archive]

Butch, every year.

[umberink]

                                  [ The Forest ]

A crunch of dry leaves can be heard echoing across the expansion of the forest floor. A periodic brushing of the stale frozen wind can be felt across any surface, making the leaves shudder in its presence, and keeping the restless creatures who inhabit the grounds, drifting across the ripples of the lingering forest canopy. The atmosphere, in a mixture of temporary silence and then the whispering sounds of forest life can be heard. Darkness overflows the corridor of trees down every aisle, as if they were manually planted there.

Shadows move rigidity in patterns over the crevice of each individual tree, aided by the luminescence of moonlight. Another echoing of crushing stiff leaves can be heard, causing the life of the forest floor to vanish. The silence signaled an arranged action in the forest, suddenly the tallness of the trees drew the moving shadows upward sharply, almost forcefully, bending them to the branches as if they transformed into a group of slender extended crooked fingers of misfortune. The branches presented a direction of passage, pasted against the edged canvas of the cloudless night sky.

Another alarming crunch of footsteps echoed across the expansion causing the influences of the forest to dramatically change. The moonlight drifted into an angle that touched the corridor of trees as if on cue, creating an image of trickery to the bystander that attends. A pathway of inconspicuous comfort and guidance.

There is no moment of hesitance in the forest’s movement, however it waited patiently, watching each and every motion. The trees sway slightly to the stale wind, becoming frequent and restless. The dry leaves effortlessly float and swirl around the essences of roots at the feet of the trees, accompanied by the echoing groaning of wood and branch.

The footsteps become discontent and uneasy, ready to bolt.

The forest became ruinous with a continuous ferocious crackling which echoed in the moonlit air. Thick snake-like roots emerge noxiously in clusters from the rotting soil and dead leaves, like an enormous serpent with inky long fingers covered in moist dirt, and lash out furiously at the direction of the victim. The footsteps suddenly increase in frequency as the prey runs frantically from the snake-like fingers with gasping desperation.

The forest has begun to indulge itself in a game of wicked enthusiasm.

Until the footsteps were seized. The monstrous snake-like roots shrieked before slamming its victim to the forest’s floor. A resounded thump hit the ground as a gasping for oxygen was heard beneath the roots. The thick inky fingers curl slowly into a caressing fist, moist and frozen to the touch, ungentle, ruthless. With a jarred motion, the roots yanked backward, taking its prey with it as the victim’s screaming could be heard once the shock was over and the situation sunk in.

In the distance the ground croaked violently and caved downward into a crevasse of pure darkness. The roots receded so quickly, the victim had no time to retaliate as it pulled the innocent into the depths of the forest’s floor.

The roots faded immediately into the ground, closing with resounding softness as if nothing happened.