#wtdwf

[cyrrane]

529. You cut through the woods to get through the next neighborhood. The sounds of your progress startle something ahead of you. At first it looks like a deer as it struggles to its feet. You look at the way its eyes reflect the light and know it isn’t. It’s something else, wearing the deer face like a mask.

[cyrrane]

268. The spine of autumn, restless, pushes against your skin. It forces more autumn haze past your pores. There’s enough to collect in a cloud around you. Seen through it, the world goes cool and smells of leaves. It’s not clear how it looks from the outside but people give you a wide berth on the street.

[cyrrane]

844. There are more of the faint floating spots when you get the mail. You no longer think they are floaters brought on by eye strain. They move around things instead of floating over them, and move too deliberately, with intent. There are a lot of them today. You nick a finger opening an envelope and they all start to drift rapidly towards you.

[cyrrane]

952. A haze of autumn seeps from your back, pushed through your skin. Flex your shoulders and feel the spine of autumn crack inside your back. Leaves crinkle and metal tarnishes as you trail haze down the street.

[cyrrane]

73. A haze of concentrated autumn floats by the door as you leave the apartment. The moon seen through it shifts, becoming huge and harvest for a moment. The porch light flickers like a candle. You finish locking up and set off into the night.

[cyrrane]

821. The first stomach bug of the fall is going around. You kneel by the compost bin as a familiar flutter rises in your throat. A retch and leaves are pouring from your mouth, bright red and orange and yellow. They are perfectly dry and cool to the touch.

[cyrrane]

336. Someone is walking through the woods ahead of you. They seem to be struggling; whenever you see the figure through the trees it is lurching from tree to tree. You catch sight of the figure leaning with head and forearm against a tree and start forward to help. At the sound of your footsteps the figure’s head whips towards you and it dissolves into leaves.

[cyrrane]

81. The scarecrows are large looming things by the time the train stops in the Midwest. There is almost always one in sight as you walk through the town. They all wear worn armor. It’s all the stranger, then, that you don’t see signs of crows, or any birds at all. You chalk it up to regional differences and keep moving.