The Forest

Flygohr
Flygohr
Jan 6 · 2 min read
Photo by Nathan Anderson on Unsplash

The forest is of dead, rotting trees
A pale, half moon is being covered by thick clouds
The undergrowth creaks under your quick steps
Your naked body scratched and bruised
Your eyes wide open, the breath condensing fast
Your heart racing, every shadow a threat
A monster, a demon, a hidden fear
You run from tree to tree, and there’s no end

And you can’t remember who was wrong
You can’t remember where you left your innocence

Your feet finally touch a soft spot of grass
And you raise your head, to the gorgeous woods
in front of you
You allow yourself to slow down
Your breath to become calmer
While you take a walk in between the beautiful trees

Maybe you’ll not have to run forever

It’s cold, it’s dark, it starts to snow and,
as you observe the snowflakes touching ground

You start to feel warmer
Something is not right

Your heart starts pounding again
As soon as you realize
you’ve been watching
Ashes falling down from the sky
the whole time

And with a red ember in your pupil
You see smoke rising from behind the trees
And all around you, the forest is burning

Flames scorch your arms,
your eyes feel dryer than ever
The heat is unbearable, and you fall to your knees

And as soon as you think it’s over
You feel something,
running down your cheek
A long lost sensation
You thought that it was a tear,
that you were finally going to cry

But it was just the rain, and the forest
starting to rot again

Male, 24, Italy. Freelance comic book artist and illustrator. Unapologetic troublemaker. Extreme coffee evangelist. Superhero.

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