Into The Woods // ✓

Secundus

•Be careful not to step on any beetle, or you'll never get rid of them

I ran the direction I thought I came from, Dodging trees and tripping over logs. In my adrenaline fuelled spur I hit my head on a wooden sculpture.

I sat down, I groggily lay on my back. The pain was killing me.

When I opened my eyes the world looked like a kaleidoscope, many hues of pink and purple danced in front of my eyes. I saw small entity's race by my field of vision.

The trees above me creepily wove them self around me. Creating some sort of a dome or a shelter around me and the wooden object.

My harrowing experience was turned into a plethora of pretty colours, all mixing with one another.

I stood up, I nearly toppled over with my lost sense of balance.

I braced my self on the wooden sculpture, I looked down for a minute, regaining my composure.

I stood upright, I felt a surge of power from that hallucination. It felt real, but I knew it wasn't.

These happened all the time.

I glanced at the wooden sculpture, it was some sort of bug.

A beetle.

Why would there be a beetle out here in the woods? I never noticed it before.

As I was pondering this thought two slits opened in the bark, they slowly unlatched.

The searing red light billowing out of the two openings hurt my retinas.

I took two humongous steps back, taking care not to fall.

I rapidly covered my sensitive eyes, hoping to salvage at least some of my vision.

I saw the crimson light recede into the statue through my hands, I slowly removed my hands from my eyes.

The statue wasn't there, I still saw all of the colours gracefully float their way across my eyes.

I stepped back, I felt something squishy under my feet.

I looked down warily, I have had enough of this woods, I'm afraid it may make me live my past again.

I lifted my foot achingly slow, calculating my every move to not disturb what, or who I stepped on.

It was a beetle.

The colours instantly evaporated from my view. The woods fell silent, I couldn't even hear the rustling of the leaves. The small pattering of the bugs feet ceased to be heard.

And then I heard them coming, the sound of millions of petite feet sprinting my way.

Had I really done it a second time?

No, I couldn't have done it a second time, maybe this was help.

Emerging from the bushes were a small army of beetles, their shiny outer shells glistening in the twilight.

And I sprinted, clutching my journal to my chest, hoping that I could just leave, leave this endless stupor of pain and misery.