The Struggle

Forests are really coffins, you know?
Have you really ever thought about it?
Think about what you walk on.
Maybe you think about the bugs and plants you crush.
But that’s just one part of it.
Think about what’s underneath.
What’s underneath is a pile of earth.
Fine, nutritious soil.
A mass grave.
Nothing but a molding pile a corpses.
And not just regular corpses, I mean.
It’s an open-air den of wickedness.
Rotted flesh.
The wastes of plants and beasts.
Digested, putrid remnants.
Bones, and things that were once bones and are now slime.
Being devoured even now.
As you stand there.
You stand in death.
Tendrils and lengthy ropes of monsters writhe beneath your feet.
Feeding, shitting, and feeding again.
There are eyes on you.
There are legs crawling on you.
There are things waiting there in the soil.
Waiting to get on you. Waiting to get in you.
Wanting to taste you. Wanting to consume you.
Even now, some do not wait. Perhaps a mosquito slides a piece of itself inside you.
It penetrates you. Tastes you.
Perhaps it puts something inside you.
Something else that was wanting you.
Something that begins to digest you. But just a little bit.
Bit by bit, things begin to rot you.
Things in the air.
Things in the soil.
Things that live, and breathe and crawl.
Lifeless things, as well.
They degrade you.
They rot you.
Your body is a forest.
Walking, and eating, and rotting.
Things begin to eat you.
——
Nightmare Fuel 2019, Day 4