The Woodland

A Ceepy Forest by tsonline, click-through for full size!

A Ceepy Forest by tsonline, click-through for full size!

There’s something about the mist that swirls at your feet. It slows you down, makes you feel heavier than you should. The torch in your hand sends a bright beam out ahead of you, but it’s a narrow field of view. With every creek and crack of movement it shakes and stutters, flashing from one line of trees to the next.

But it isn’t the dark or the noise that’s making your stomach twist.

It’s the smell.

There is no breeze, no wind to offer relief from the dank, lingering stench. It’s tangy and old and rotting, like vinegar left out too long in the heat. Putting a sleeve over your face makes little difference – it’s sunk into your clothes and hair and skin.

You try to ignore the muffled groaning at first. Focusing ahead and pushing through the grey, you pretend it’s all in your head. But the light drifts up of its own accord, as though your hand has made a decision of its own. And now you have to look.

It’s not a face you recognise. The tree has taken whoever it was. Sunk its branches into the skin and creeped along until there’s barely any flesh at all. Thank god for the night, the dim and the shadows that save you from seeing the extent of the infection. You stare and try to make out the words cracked lips are trying to form, but you feel as though you could remain there forever and never understand.

It’s the tear streaked, blinking eyes that finally breach the confusion. You follow their gaze, tilting your head to look down, but it’s already far too late. The roots that have circled gently around your ankles are already half way up your calf.

You don’t remember coming here, and you find your fingers shake as you switch off the torch. You drop it to the ground, can hardly make it out as it rolls away. There are thin vines at your waist now.

You don’t struggle.

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Bit of an experiment with the dreaded second person present tense there, but since the Weekly Photo challenge over at the Daily Post is Creepy, I figured it was appropriate. Make sure you check out the artists work! :)

Why I’m Glad Dinosaurs are Extinct

dino

Don’t be fooled! Some Dinosaurs may pretend to be cute so that they can lure you into a false sense of security and then EAT YOU. (via Google Images)

I was seven years old when Jurassic Park came out and eight years old when I watched it in my Grandparent’s living room. The soft, faded fabric of the sofa cushion I hid behind, did little to protect me from the frankly horrific events that proceeded to unfold on the small analogue telly in the centre of the room. My younger brothers were on the floor, enraptured and my grandmother was knitting beside me, clearly not the least bit concerned at her youngest granddaughter’s feelings of UTTER TERROR. Continue reading

The Bee Removal Dance

crocheted_bee_by_syppah-d3k6pns

The only acceptable bee is a crochet one! By syppah.

It was a beautiful [it wasn’t actually that’s a complete lie] spring afternoon in South East England. The air was warm [muggy] and a light breeze was blowing our heroine’s hair back and forth [I looked like a Tim Burton character after five goddamn minutes – all that time and hairspray for nothing. NOTHING.] as she walked. Continue reading

Creation

Surreal World

Surreal Digital Art from Rolan Gonzalez, see more of his work here!

Now sit here my love and watch, just watch. Watch as I stand apart but steady, arms wide open in invitation as our new world forms before us.

Feel the breeze across the skin of your cheek and know that I am conjuring a place so sublime you’ll shed tears for me once more. Listen to the sounds of a Universe all our own gasping into existence. Smell the new grass beneath and the fresh leaves above and know that never again will we be denied. Taste the clear waters that clash around us, that flow and bend and rain.

This place, this bright open space where no single man is yet King, is mine to mold and yours to protect. For we are done with smite and folly, done with jealousy and malice. We rise higher than the winds, climbing atop the highest spindling branches to begin again. And begin I have, my love.

So watch, just watch.