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Sep 2019
In distant days of yore a myth was born. A nightmarish place written in folklore. A place of horror , misery and decay.

The trees, tangled and foreboding, impatient for flesh... screaming, craving. Wildlife avoids the twisting limbs a sinister secret lies within.

Silent, sentient. Alert, hunting. The thirsty branches feeling, sensing. The abomination of nature beckons to the unwary. Sweet perfumes infuse the air inviting and inticing. Death, cold swift merciless, awaiting.

A lost traveller wanders intoxicated by the heady scent. The trap is sprung! Another victim, hot fresh blood! Nourishment.

Snaking branch snatches the poor unfortunate. Slashing ripping as the life force splashes on the insatiable ground. The Crimson Forest revels in an ecstatic ****** ****... unbound.

Strange, dark and malevolent the trees grow strong gorged on fresh blood

Demonic, carnivorous. Vampiric, monstrous. A grove of death trapping and feasting for a thousand years. Sustained by the blood of countless thousands of empty drained bodies.
Written by
Gavin Oliver  52/M/Cornwall UK
(52/M/Cornwall UK)   
131
 
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