A gentle wind rustled the forest leaves, the whispering sound drifting to greet the grey clouds that sprinkled a soft rain and moistened the earth. The woodsy smell of pine and moldering vegetation stirred in the humidity, and a quiet day unfolded its tranquillity.
The serene mask concealing the secret burial of four women.
The illusion muting the echo of their pain pulsing beneath the soil.
Hollows in the earth, rich with putrefaction, where tree roots entwined their bones, cradling them, winding around and through the decaying remains. Dirt filled the hollow eye sockets and mouths that once screamed their last words. Insects feasted on the bits of flesh still clinging to the bodies.
Four souls discarded and abandoned.
No one searched for them here.
No loved ones mourned at their graves.
Buried in a dumping ground by a callous monster. To be forgotten.
Yet, the trees remembered them.
Cherished their forsaken existence, acknowledged their erasure. Wept for these ghosts twisted into their roots, into their loam, death slowly calling out to life until an understanding blossomed as deeply as the spring buds.
They all knew a fifth body was inevitable.
They decided it would be the last…woman at least.
There would be a sixth death. Not buried, only left to rot among the scavengers and forest debris. His bones would not lie with theirs. His bones would be scattered, stolen and eaten to feed the animals. His blood would seep into the dirt to be washed away with the rain.
A murmur sifted through the trees. They would enjoy killing him.
It was only a matter of time.
~ A. F. Stewart
© Copyright 2026 A. F. Stewart. All Rights Reserved.
