Flash Fiction 14

The entire length of the forest was alive, no matter what they believed of the inanimate objects hanging there wood claws above head. Every time the little girl, pink pony tails swaying behind her would look up at them, grasping for her in her blood stained dress she would smile.

They were alive.

She skipped, but in a place like this, time would come to a halt, as the demons danced along with her, howling through there mutated orifices. She often felt sorry for the puppies, or atleast all the animals in this wicked forest that she could try and identify.

Her world seemed to slowly shift around her ever since she fell through the cobwebs rabbit hole. Since she she had tea with the molesting hatter, since she fucked after the tea party, and took off the caterpillars head to see if he really bled green as he had told her.

This was her new home, she would live in such a place forever. slowly, she balanced the scythe behind her, the black handle and blade weighed in her small digits as she skipped about through the grasping grey trees. As they would reach for her, she never obliged to be taken.

The grasp went slowly about her body, tearing away her dress as they moved as far as the wind would allow them to reach underneath a grey and pale moonlight night. It was safer at this time, in the night, or that’s what the guards had told her, she felt that they lied so she killed them, taking there blood as a reminder, to anyone else who dared cross her path.

Singing under the pale night, a child’s melody as the howl of the trees followed her in rhythm like that of a thousands sirens crying out as they went along hauntingly. this place was so alive, they could never imagine all that bled, all that breathed around her.

She could feel it beneath her breast as she went along, without a care in the world, humming and singing as if she were on her way home.

The trot of horse shoes sounded, but nothing was there, trying there best to lure the little girl from her path, as if another human was amongst this place of haunting and death.

This would be the woods that separated the brave from the cowards, the sane from those who knew no line between the voices of there comrades, and there own thoughts.She could hear them, the song of the night as she played her scythe’s end along the trees that wanted her so. the dogs themselves crushed the branches along the fogged woodland ground without thought and continued in there own blind ways.

They brushed along her skin, the sick feeling of rotted flesh, razor teeth and burnt skin made her skin crawl, daring her to run her fingers amongst the flesh that was beyond anything else that god would allow on earth.

As they neared, they exhaled, a harsh exhale that she would dream about in the day, the dry breath, the dry sound that would never be distinguished between inhaling or exhaling.

Like the thoughts of the demented, the dogs themselves drew a thin line of there lives and that of living.Just as the trees Halo kept at bay, turning the rod in her hand, sending a warning cut along the breast of the reaching trees. Cutting them along the belly only skin deep enough till they leaned back against the wind.

Releasing a blood of past victims like candy, slowly running down against the bark and soaking as if a child hiding the mess it made.She watched it, almost wantingly before whispering as she went along, “That’s better.”

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