Sep 2019
By: L.D. Conner
It’s dark in these woods. I might as well not have eyes. Just rip them out. Eat them with your teeth. There are teeth in these woods. Behind every tree, beneath every stone. The woods are dark at night, and I do not fear loneliness, but the absence of it. The teeth whisper in these woods. Muttering soft tones through their tongueless mouths, yet drool pools on the leaves, and seeps into my skin; into my pores. The potency of the whispers drill into my brain. Time is forgotten in these woods, the teeth keep me here; they sink into my flesh and pin me to the trees. The trees are everywhere in these woods. They lurk in the dark and block out the light; they swallow the light; hungry. I know I have been here too long. My stomach twists with hunger. My skin, I know, is pale as death. The sun has been drawn from my skin and given to the woods. The woods are not satisfied with the light. They begin to eat at my flesh. They use their teeth to break my bones. They slide my bones out of my skin. I can’t run now. My flesh starts to go; melts off into their mouths. I waste away. My bones, my flesh. My mind goes dead, and I cannot breathe. Then all of a sudden, It stops. It is now so quiet in these woods. I am suddenly alone, but I cannot keep on. I bleed out on the damp leaves. The woods have done their work. Now they soak in my blood through the soil; into their roots. My teeth are in the woods. I join the chorus of chattering whispers. I will never leave these woods. My home is in these woods.
It’s dark in these woods. I might as well not have eyes. Just rip them out. Eat them with your teeth. There are teeth in these woods. Behind every tree, beneath every stone. The woods are dark at night, and I do not fear loneliness, but the absence of it. The teeth whisper in these woods. Muttering soft tones through their tongueless mouths, yet drool pools on the leaves, and seeps into my skin; into my pores. The potency of the whispers drill into my brain. Time is forgotten in these woods, the teeth keep me here; they sink into my flesh and pin me to the trees. The trees are everywhere in these woods. They lurk in the dark and block out the light; they swallow the light; hungry. I know I have been here too long. My stomach twists with hunger. My skin, I know, is pale as death. The sun has been drawn from my skin and given to the woods. The woods are not satisfied with the light. They begin to eat at my flesh. They use their teeth to break my bones. They slide my bones out of my skin. I can’t run now. My flesh starts to go; melts off into their mouths. I waste away. My bones, my flesh. My mind goes dead, and I cannot breathe. Then all of a sudden, It stops. It is now so quiet in these woods. I am suddenly alone, but I cannot keep on. I bleed out on the damp leaves. The woods have done their work. Now they soak in my blood through the soil; into their roots. My teeth are in the woods. I join the chorus of chattering whispers. I will never leave these woods. My home is in these woods.
