THE BRANCH THAT SKEWERS YOUR HEART

The woods are harsh and subtle. Trees cling and trees embrace. Characters swither and swathe through undergrowth, through leafed canopies. It is the changing time and the drums are rolling, it is the changing time and pools of water lay stagnant like congealed blood, like clots of nature that never really heal. So you stand amongst trees, stand within and around them. You are part and parcel of the living, you breathe the breath, the wind blows through your hair, you blink at sunlight, your skin is cool in shadows, and yet...you are alone. Trees knot together, they embrace and they form...yet you are alone. So you stumble through undergrowth, generations of wet and sodden leaves stick to your feet, cling to your ankles, you are swimming through acres of the dead, swimming towards...what? Sunlight and roses? Rainbows and unicorns? The breeze touches your face, a branch skewers your heart. You are mocked and you are broken, yet...you're still standing and guess what, you're no longer alone. Grey ghosts shuffle towards you, they surround you with large vacant eyes, pools towards purgatory, towards the void. You stand amongst others, no longer alone. The grey breath of dead ghosts becomes a mood, a mist, a release. So you go with it and it ends.