(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

and braid until the rope lashes the space around me, cut off from reality in
my own bubble.
No. Not my bubble.
Walls twist and curl and sprout like plants, wiggling in the air with new and
eager life. Walls creak but hold still as roots pierce planar mortar and
placental space.
I recall old advice I was once given.
Beware the shadows of the woods. Do not walk the space where trees cast
their dead.
I know I've stepped in the wrong spot and I pause. It is silent, but I know that
the air shivers and rattles and laughs at my error.
Creatures of nightmare pull themselves from the ground and walk, rip at my
flesh with black barbs. Cold numb pain dances along my flesh as my head
rolls back in contentment. Yes yes yes.
Sounds of wood and fury, creaking limbs and the squeal of branches. I spiral
deep into the darkness.
~~~~~
The ground smolders beneath my footsteps, and ashen smoke curls along
the cracks of the forsaken earth. Overhead the sky is red as blood, pierced
with crackling black sin. In the distance a storm bubbles and brews, and
within the hour the rains will come: fat droplets of despair that pierce the
skin and weather the soul until hope and happiness are gone.
Rattling teeth. Jabbering screams.
The tower of skulls babbles at me, but I cannot understand the words. I want
to understand, to sort the voices out from one another and unveil the secrets
held in each precious curve.
And just as I hear a familiar, pitched cry coming from within, a clattering
from behind distracts me, and I turn to see a battalion of blood-fanged
fiends.
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