Green Labyrinth
OPEN TO ANYONE
03-20-2018, 10:08 PM
It watches as you move along the leafy, darkened wall and sudden silence falls around you, the sound seems to vanish altogether.
Eerie? you might think, and now there is a small flurry of air along the passage. The wind which you know, however, has no arms wrapped around a spear of grass, nor hands that part the leaves into tiny windows; the wind has no legs, bent to balance perfectly and still, nor toes to curl tightly around their perch. You smell ripe, sweet like the taste of Glow Cherries in Scorch’s eleventh hour, and a keen, cunning tongue samples your aroma excitedly.
Leaves rustle as another bristled body alights into the hedge, and then another… and another, while into the bamboo opposite arrive another three.
They have been hunting you.
Biding their time, the large swarm of Screechers watch with immaculate senses as you feel your way past; unknowing, unseeing, blinded by the feral nature of the Rift. They wait with tiny, primitive hearts throbbing in their chests.
Suddenly their notice is stolen by movement ahead of you and they sing out in wailing unison, wild with delight, deafening. The saccharine scent they sample now is stronger than yours and like hyenas to the carcass, they move now as one fierce unit, hustling past you in a flurry of air. You could even be forgiven for thinking they are one intangible monster.
Eerie? you might think, and now there is a small flurry of air along the passage. The wind which you know, however, has no arms wrapped around a spear of grass, nor hands that part the leaves into tiny windows; the wind has no legs, bent to balance perfectly and still, nor toes to curl tightly around their perch. You smell ripe, sweet like the taste of Glow Cherries in Scorch’s eleventh hour, and a keen, cunning tongue samples your aroma excitedly.
Leaves rustle as another bristled body alights into the hedge, and then another… and another, while into the bamboo opposite arrive another three.
They have been hunting you.
Biding their time, the large swarm of Screechers watch with immaculate senses as you feel your way past; unknowing, unseeing, blinded by the feral nature of the Rift. They wait with tiny, primitive hearts throbbing in their chests.
Suddenly their notice is stolen by movement ahead of you and they sing out in wailing unison, wild with delight, deafening. The saccharine scent they sample now is stronger than yours and like hyenas to the carcass, they move now as one fierce unit, hustling past you in a flurry of air. You could even be forgiven for thinking they are one intangible monster.
the Rift
