Greenless

a hoax suspended in time, a gulf between each line, a tooth that wouldn’t yellow, a smell of acrid sulfur. “don’t,” the blade sang mutely in a fist of rust, the air thickened to a thinness that choked, as the night howled into making chase with the wind and its cautious nature. i crawled and scowled as the tree and its sap were gone; the roots clawed upward to drown in air, flames suckled the bones of a greenless void. the waterlogged hand shook warmly, the face of the mannequin animated by the fire, its eyes wept ash in a blind seeing, shadows gnawed the light and spat it whole. i’ve only encountered it at the end of nightmares. i had a sword, but i had a word.