A Walk in the Woods

We were standing on a bridge

Standing on a bridge

(ARTIFICE) trees skinned and bared, laid out beneath our feet

We were standing on a bridge in the forest, we were talking about magic

How the air was rich and HEAVY with it

how it tasted metallic and of mold

A crisp rot and decay because it wasn’t summer anymore

The cicadas buzz the leaves shuffle the trees groan

“didn’t know the forest was this loud”

“i wish i knew what they were saying”

“the trees?”

“yes, the trees”

It was at that moment I really started to listen listen listen and the air became cooler and the breeze picked up and we both began to walk a little faster, an unspoken acknowledgement of the shift, our awareness of how small and alone we were in the woods chilling the backs of our necks. Our arms were linked together, our strides (yours slightly shorter than mine) keeping pace when we heard the alarm bells, as if the trees were warning us of danger - that the eyes we felt pressing into our skin were indeed there. It was simultaneously low and high pitched, an uncanny valley humanoid groan, a splitting and snapping of something very very old.

when a tree falls in the forest, but no one is around to hear it, does it make a