Worth The Wait

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
If you go down to the woods today beware of the rotting tree!

Submitted: June 09, 2017

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Submitted: June 09, 2017

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Worth The Wait

 

An old worn and weathered tree, that’s what you see me as. Rotten to the core! And that last bit is not so wrong. I am rotten, evilly so! Step forward and take a good deep breath. No, closer, come closer, and breathe me in. Can’t you smell it? Taste it, even? The badness that runs from the soil up through my roots to my shell of a body.

So you want to keep your distance then! That’s okay, I’ve plenty of time. I’ve been standing here waiting for years and years. A few more minutes won’t hurt at all. I’ll be careful, keep my branches still. I don’t want to startle you and make you run away.

I bet you didn’t realize that I can smell you too. A sweet and heady perfume that I long to obliterate, to over-power with my own stench of rot and decay. And it won’t take long, not once you move close enough for me to grasp.

Patience! I’m getting beyond myself here and I must remain calm. I can feel my roots, writhing under the earth. Will you notice a slight movement in the earth beneath you? No, I don’t think so. You seem to be too lost in your own thoughts, too preoccupied. I wonder if you would notice if I just stretched out a branch.......No, better wait a while longer.

But now you are ruining things, starting to walk away. I’m sorry but I cannot let you go; not now you have stirred up my hunger. I have not eaten for years and I’m starving.

I’ll have to flex a root from under the ground, raise it up to trip you. I had hoped this could be a gentle consuming but you changed the rules. My root trips you, grabs you securely and holds on. By itself it would not be strong enough to drag you to me, but I’ll send forth another one or two. They will reel you in like a fish on a line.

Closer and closer. My branches quiver, dip and reach out, bringing you closer and never letting go. You are pressed up hard against my bark and the branches are cutting into your flesh, drawing out blood that feeds me and feeds me.

Do I devour you or make do with a taste? I could let you go. You’d never believe what you have been through; your mind will provide some rational explanation and I will be quite safe, left alone until some other unwary soul should pass me by.

But I am so hungry and that tiny little sip has just made me feel more famished. Sorry, but this time my need is too great. I’ll make it painless, or as much as I can. And once I have finished devouring you I will be replete, content to bide my time until some other careless fool steps in rot’s path.


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