The shadows sit, watching, waiting, pinned to it's item as if bound by magic. Moving with the glare shone from the sun. Day in, Day out. The tree, withered and dark as charcoal. Wind brushes back and forth past the willowed tree, it's roots imprisoned in stone. Just as if it was a man calling for help, the tree wailed, a cry for help. The man imprisoned just like the stone but in this case, trapped in his mind. He shows no fear nor no sadness no matter how big the temptation, just as the tree shows no weakness against the harsh weather inflicted by the surrounding nature. The man can't call for help or he is threatened by the sight of his weakness, although the tree can't stop wailing. Both trapped lost and lonely the only way out is simple, compelling and harsh. The tree slowly hollowed by the nature living among it's dead barked body, it's roots slowly tore themselves from the ground and the tree fell into the persian orange cracked stone floor. The tree draws it's last drop of water. The man quickly engulfed in his own mind, he is like the tree in a way that horrifying, he collapses from his own doing and draws his last breath.
YOU ARE READING
The Hollow Man {Short}
Short StoryNow, this story can be a bit confusing if you don't understand what the point is at the start. Basically, this is a story about depression, I wrote this at my writing camp when I had to write about an image I was given, the image being a dead, burnt...
