No one leaves the woods,
the ghastly trunks of gnarled flesh,
watch from gaunt bramble and twig,
stalking the night,
as its prey draws within.
No one opens their home,
nor tilts the shade in,
nor listens to taunts,
of the spirits that walk,
through the stillness of dark.
No one dares interfere,
with its pure sacrifice chosen,
or they will meet fate,
far worse than death,
and never escape.
No one walks away,
from their thicket-cased home,
where the spirits once called
to their worn, weary soul,
in the deadest of nights.
No one leaves the woods.
YOU ARE READING
Echo of Moths
HorrorNo one leaves the woods. Caila is no exception. Buried alive and left for dead, the twenty-year-old woman finds salvation in Locke Bauer: the young man who rescues her from her coffin. When a devastating storm leaves her with no way out, Locke offer...
