My Creative Writing

Cut Up

I drove closer. I needed to get through. I drove even closer. Until I'm inside. There are layers of green all around me. I have driven into a tunnel of trees. I press on, and the thorns start to tear into my flesh. Ripping, leaving blood and cuts. When I finally got through to the daylight, I looked down at my arms and legs. I nearly wrecked into a tree and some bushes. I kept going. Kept cutting grass.