Hmm
“How shall I be found?” you ask yourself, curiously wandering through the wooded night, lulled by the melody that echoes through the mouths of leafless trees. “Torn viciously by nocturnals? A starved corpse illuminated by starlight? Or worse?” You find the sculptures you’ve been admiring are the frames of lost children, disfigured and figured as paper dolls, your footsteps have disappeared. The path has been swallowed.
The Mother of the Forest had been watching you from underneath the creeping moss of a nearby trunk, tongue clicking but otherwise completely still. The crunching of leaves is a sure sign of untainted life, attracted to her eternal lullaby. “Shall I have another child today?” She smiles, illuminating several crooked sharp teeth. “We are hungry.”
The witch’s fingers, icicles upon your skin
Loud she cackles as she pulls you closer in
“I have granted…”
“I have granted…”
Underneath her shawl, a ribcage of dead wood
In her embrace, you’re impaled where you once stood
“I have granted…”
“I have granted…”
The nocturnals all sing in chorus
The song of this forest
“Come to me, my children, and sing sweetly to me”
You lay there tattered, a gift from their mother
Never to be discovered
“Awaken now, my child, and hear my melody”
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