“He had warned her about the book. Now it was too late.”
The book lay open on its spine, its pages open. The window was open, the ardent silver moonlight flooded the storeroom. In the corner, bathed in the silver light, lay a young woman, perhaps seventeen. Her hair was dark, with languid curls, her features smooth and dusky. Her skin was olive-toned, and her eyes would have been a piercing green had they been open.
The air was heavy and hot, laden with the smells of bread and spices, of people and of stone, the smell of Rome. The wind rustled the pages of the book, flipping them. Suddenly they stopped as if held in place. The writing on the page began to bleed, blackish-green ooze slowly writhing across the page. The vile substance swirled and writhed, forming tendrils and roots, vines and branches. A small black tree formed- an oak. The devious growth quivered, becoming aware.
A light dust fell from its leaves, falling over the girl, keeping her asleep, as its vines wrapped and bound her. The tree’s leaves rustled and burrowed through the multitude cracks in the ceiling, growing at a speed that defied all logic, and yet was eerily silent, devoid of all noise. The tree’s bark was an old scab, festering and oozing a green-black sludge from betwixt its cracks. The leaves were shriveled and dead, the faces of the damned screaming out from within and yet were also new and glossy.
The tree continued its growth, roots spreading far, perversely strong and unnaturally tall. Cradled in branches, bound to the trunk, lay the girl. Her eyelids fluttered for a moment, as if they would open. The roots crept silently, malignantly down the street. The drunkard sleeping in the alleyway woke and tried to scream!-but too late, his voice would not come. He lay in silence as the roots violated his flesh and drained him of all nourishment, leaving only a desiccated corpse.
The roots crept silently and swiftly like vines of twisted ivy, penetrating the home next door. The young couple asleep in their bed, died in each other’s arms, vile, twisted tendrils ripping into and out of their bodies. Blood sprayed everywhere, covering the roots, only feeding them more. The girl slept on, as much a part of the tree as not. The small child in the house of the couple lying in its crib was not spared its parents’ fate. The screams of the babe pierced the night-to no avail, for similar screams of desperation echoed throughout the city.
The skyline of the city is changed. No longer full of towers and churches, but now dotted with massive, unnatural trees. They appear limned in fire as the sun rises. The girl awakens as the sun’s rays fall on her now-oaken form. Her leaves open fully, revealing glossy green tops, the faces now soothed by the warmth. Her skin, once raw and oozing scab, is now smooth and pure bark.
Where once a city stood, unequaled in might and power, now there stands a forest, ruins visible throughout. The forest is silent however, save for the whispers of the trees and their spirits. No man, nor beast ventures here.
Through the window, the sun rises, its golden light heralding a new day. The book lay where it fell, pages open. The girl sits up suddenly, her eyes flashing green and wildly looking around. Her face is bewildered. A yell catches her attention, and she leaps out of bed, and throws on a simple dress. On the horizon, through the window, on a hill, stands a great forest. There now stands a forest, eternal and silent, where once, a great city stood. And each day, its roots spread just a little deeper.
No comments:
Post a Comment