There is a tree that fell on one of them. I don’t know what the odds are. It’s pinned there, reaching, grasping, snarling in the dirt. I pity that withered thing. Before it were sundry birds pecking in the loose earth, gathering beetles and worms. Just out of reach. How that zombie clawed and stretched. How unbothered they were, these twittering sprites. A fox in the shadows would not draw near that dead man, but still he watched—drooling. He hungered for those flighty creatures who trust the length of death’s arms. The faithless fox stays in the shadows.
Thus the worms of the earth, who ought to devour the man, were devoured.
Derelict worms! You would bore into the roots of this tree. Decay! Come release this wraith, have mercy on this shape of man. Return him to dust. What keeps Time? When shall Saturn rise? Termites are even now at the log that captures this pitiless thing. I fear fire is the only brave one, the only one who will do what needs doing.
Hello Darkness.3 (2, 1)
In Restless Dreams
Visions Softly Creeping
Seeds
Reunion
Tale Told 