Night stood still, the summer evening produced warm crisp air that lingered over the dry earth. The sweltering heat brought tiny droplets of sweat over the forehead; the heat penetrating the body. Trees dug into their roots, their tender green leaves swaying slowly as they absorb the gust of wind.
In the amidst of alienation, the noise of crickets grew louder being born into a sound of monstrosity; its unusual noise slowly curdled the blood. The smell of fresh mud had caused the stomach to turn violently it was then; the cracked hefty boots of a man tore the connection between grass and mud as he paced through the plain fields panicked and palish.
The sick moon shone its yellowish light against the pale surface of his skin as the sweat trickled down his cheeks. He had just killed a man.
Slowly, as he began to lower his pace, his sore eyes met only the trees that were arched in front of him. Their dark features were spine-tingling they were wretched as they gazed at whatever crossed by.
Each branch stuck out as if it were a skeletal finger, each branch telling a thousand stories of those in suffering the formidable nightmarish features the place had withheld.
Demonic mourning and whispers sailed in the sea of guilt; a presence of otherworldly beings felt for the body. In the distance was the smell of hell; a foxes body rotting as the maggots feasted, ripping its limbs apart the grass moulding the bones.
The cracked jaw full of insects, as its green body flopped to the side. A swarm of freakish flies hovered over the dead, the smell of decay was inviting to the kingdom of insects. He sought shelter and absolution; the warmth deteriorating his will, time encapsulated him; there was no escape.
After hours of stumbling, racing in a haste he brushed the forested leaves of his face and found himself in a field of graves.
The cracked greyish headstones stood tall and menacing; the old moss wrapped itself around the stone leaving no trace of the names once engraved. Some had tumbled down, weathered by all sorts of monstrosity.
Hideous crows flapped their wings brutally beating the air; their yellow eyes gleaming in the night of the dead. Cawing and Cawing; they swivelled like black smoke on top of an empty grave. It was the smell of decay once again; this time a large crow feasted on the flesh of a human.
Its stomach was ripped to pieces as its eyes rolled out like pearls; its reddish organs were being thrown apart. The smell of metallic blood had brought a white veil over his skin; it was as if death had lured him to his destination. Even its corpse longed for water; shrivelled up the corpse’s tongue had rolled back as the crows stripped its dignity.
The loud chanting of prayer had shot out of the man’s mouth; his cracked lips helping information of the words. The ancient bell nearby tolled its vibrations disrupting the air and the crows of their feast. Suddenly, a shadow moulded itself behind him; staggered he fell off the muddy surface; his body penetrated by the old carved stone of the graves.
The moon shone, the crows feasted as his body split like butter that had been cut by a butter knife. Dismantled his body lay, one-half sliding of the grave; cawing, cawing and cawing. The fresh aroma of blood filled the crow’s eyes with lust, the same happened to him it was just a different man.