The forest.

lordofthecraft.net

Image courtesy of Lordofthecraft.net

I awoke to the stillness of death. Not even the forest dared to breathe. No birds flew overhead and no flower blossomed my way. I felt…well, I felt deflated, abandoned almost. The last several hours had forsaken me and now I lay almost completely saturated in blood and surrounded by dead bodies. And I am by no means squeamish but, believe me when I say that this was a horrifying site to behold.
Bodies lay scattered all around. Some limbs had boldly managed to half climb the silver birchs to the west of the clearing. The sun was setting. Whatever had brought me to this place had obviously and unceremoniously dumped me and left. Belatedly, I searched for the flute I vaguely remembered, or did I dream it? Anyway, my moral compass still pointed east. Blood soaked or not I still had to get back home. I needed answers! Perhaps the brotherhood would help me? I thought back to that overcast day so long ago. The image of my father falling…
Gingerly and confused I clambered out of the tree line and on toward the  French boarders. I scratched at the nape of my neck, still confused but certain that I was responsible for all this death. A thin tendril of smoke rose from a nearby village. I paused for a split second before continuing. Any questions I had would have to wait. This place was giving me the creeps.

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About Henry Game

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7 responses to “The forest.

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