i'm hungry
Deep in the woods is a place where the trees begin to change. Their bark grows white and spotted and their leaves shrivel into dead, brown husks. They come fewer and farther apart until they open onto a small clearing perhaps ten feet across. The trees bordering this space bear deep scrapes and gouges in their wide trunks, and at the very hearts of these wounds oozes something putrid and red.
To this part of the woods no animals dare come. Birds do not sing here, lizards do not crawl, and insects do not buzz. Not even the sun will show itself in this clearing, and it hides always behind a thick canopy of dead leaves.
The air here is dense and heavy; to breathe it in would be like trying to inhale porridge. It is silent, but it is not still, and it vibrates unnaturally against whatever it can. It smells of rot.
The grass does not grow here-nothing does, and at the center of the clearing rests the reason. There, as long and wide as a man, sits a mound of earth. It always appears freshly turned, the clumps of soil loose and damp and dark, and to look on it fills any creature with cold dread and despair. What lies beneath the surface only the dead know for certain, because nothing that disturbs that horror from its grave ever leaves the clearing again.
To this part of the woods no animals dare come. Birds do not sing here, lizards do not crawl, and insects do not buzz. Not even the sun will show itself in this clearing, and it hides always behind a thick canopy of dead leaves.
The air here is dense and heavy; to breathe it in would be like trying to inhale porridge. It is silent, but it is not still, and it vibrates unnaturally against whatever it can. It smells of rot.
The grass does not grow here-nothing does, and at the center of the clearing rests the reason. There, as long and wide as a man, sits a mound of earth. It always appears freshly turned, the clumps of soil loose and damp and dark, and to look on it fills any creature with cold dread and despair. What lies beneath the surface only the dead know for certain, because nothing that disturbs that horror from its grave ever leaves the clearing again.