Waste itchy red patches on skin spreading ramblings

Before me laid a forest, barren and white. The trees grasped at the air like malnourished hands from itchy red patches on skin spreading the snow, their starved skin clinging to their bones in patches. Their bark was black – as dark as black could be. It felt as if it were created to only serve itchy red patches on skin spreading in contrast to the thin blanket of powder on the itchy red patches on skin spreading ground beneath them. Thick grey clouds hung sickly above us, their shapes mangled and malformed like waves broken by rocks itchy red patches on skin spreading in the ocean. We were alone, just the trees and I. There was no other soul in sight.

It must have been winter for it felt so very itchy red patches on skin spreading cold. The trees were freed of their leaves and no remnant itchy red patches on skin spreading of their existence remained. With every step, the ground felt soft. I kept expecting to hear the crunch of ice beneath itchy red patches on skin spreading my feet, but there was no sound other sound amongst the ambiance. Outside of the forest there was the low moaning of itchy red patches on skin spreading a beast far in the distance. In and out, it’s voice would fade, like a lost child calling for its mother in all itchy red patches on skin spreading directions. Desperate and lonely, it was a sad song it sang. But it had a sense of complacency to it, as if it had been calling for quite some time. As if it knew its efforts were futile and that itchy red patches on skin spreading they too were alone.

On the ground ahead, the imprint of boots were pressed into the white trail. It seemed as if they had come from nowhere and itchy red patches on skin spreading they were disappearing just as fast. My eyes focused to the forest floor and I followed itchy red patches on skin spreading the footsteps. They were messy with trails leading behind them as if itchy red patches on skin spreading the person was in a rush, like they were – and with a dense impact, my head became acquainted with the tree. I stepped back, my hands reaching for my head. When I pulled them away, a dark black dust clung to my fingertips like dried itchy red patches on skin spreading ink. On the skin of the tree, a single patch of wood could be seen beneath. The trees weren’t black. They were covered with soot, as if they were all burned. And yet, they still stood. There are no flames or signs of a raging fire. Just a thin layer of soot quickly being enveloped in itchy red patches on skin spreading the snow.

Past the trees, I saw it. A lone building in the clearing. Made from logs and time and effort, a single black cabin was the first sign of humanity itchy red patches on skin spreading I had seen for some time. As I approached, I found the door to be ajar, it’s windows too were in various stages of shatter. I looked back once more to the forest but it itchy red patches on skin spreading had not changed. The boot prints were still beneath my feet and they itchy red patches on skin spreading had lead me here. My breath held itself in front of my face as itchy red patches on skin spreading it pooled before the structure. I raised my hand and pressed it against the door. Like a thin layer of paint, the black came off in my palm. It too was burned. But I pushed forward and made my way inside.

The interior was cluttered but bare. Beyond the floor, a single door sat firmly closed. Of the few sticks of furniture that remained, they were covered in tattered thick reddish brown sheets. Laid out like armies of toy soldiers, candles scattered across the tables and cabinets. Their insides pooled against the counter-tops in shapeless forms, the spines that ran through them were burnt and frayed. Their flames had died out long ago. Photographs hung on the walls, their images obscured by layers of dust and soot. Along the floor there was only the scattered remnants of itchy red patches on skin spreading snow that had managed its way through the cracks in itchy red patches on skin spreading the windows. But there, in one of the thin patches, there was the faint remains of a boot print. The same as before. Stepping across the room, I reached for the door handle. Catching my breath to prepare for whatever laid ahead, I pushed through the second doorway.

And I was back inside of the room. Back from where I had came. Through the untouched windows, there was only the pitch black dark of the night. Inside, the candles were alive once again, their flames shuffling and sputtering in a calming choir of itchy red patches on skin spreading soft hisses and crackles. The photographs flickered in the candle light, shining inward like carefully cut views into the stars. But in their frames, they held nothing. They were all blank. Heading forward, I reached for the door again.

And I was back inside of the room. Back from where I had came. The candles had grown short and the photographs no longer itchy red patches on skin spreading reflected their light. Like voids into the oblivion, they seemed to consume any light that wafted near them. The corners of the room were nothing more than endless itchy red patches on skin spreading pits, extending into eternity in the small spaces where it could itchy red patches on skin spreading not be seen where the walls meet. I pushed for the door once more.

And I was back inside. The room was baked in the familiar warm orange glow itchy red patches on skin spreading of the candles once more but their calming flickers were itchy red patches on skin spreading replaced with crackling. Flames seeped from their wax husks and spread to the itchy red patches on skin spreading curtains and the structure . On the walls, the photographs had been turned around, their spaces now facing inwards. Their wires pointed to the ceiling in triangles, crucified with iron nails. It was as if they were afraid to look at itchy red patches on skin spreading me. As the flames licked around my ankles,I pushed through the smoke and flame and reached for itchy red patches on skin spreading the door.

I found myself in a bright white light. Recoiling my arms to my face, I tried to shield my eyes from the blinding presence. The smell of smoke and fire still held thick in itchy red patches on skin spreading the air. The house shook with the rumble of violent thunder and itchy red patches on skin spreading the windows shattered inwards. The walls themselves constricted towards me as if the cabin itchy red patches on skin spreading was trying to breathe one last breath. Even the violent winds were not enough to snuff the itchy red patches on skin spreading flames out. As I shielded myself from the fury around me, I stumbled through the glare. I finally found the door handle – it was cold to the touch. But I ignored it and pushed through the door-frame.

In front of me, there was a grand waste. The trees had parted and the ground gave way. I stood over the edge of a sheer cliff and itchy red patches on skin spreading I looked down upon the remains of the world. Shattered and pale, the earth split in two with a jagged river. It was as if god himself reached down from the itchy red patches on skin spreading heavens and ran his knife through the world, forcing its mucky inwards to seep on to the flesh itchy red patches on skin spreading above. The ichor crept into the valley and dried in a itchy red patches on skin spreading hard flat black paste. Along the river, patches of silver spires jutted from the ground. In crumpled husks, metal animals lay mangled along the river, it’s contents too spilled along the earth. It’s flesh was burnt black and it’s softer parts split and shredded, pulled from their sockets.

It was there I heard the beast’s call more clearly now, it’s incessant wailing carrying through the fields. This droning, floating tone drifting from the wasteland. It was hypnotic. Falling and rising, it’s song truly was that of an infant. With every second it seemed to grow deeper and slower itchy red patches on skin spreading like it too was running out of breath. Like all things, it’s voice too eventually gave out. And I was left in nothing but silence. Not a bird, nor insect, or brush of wind caught my ear. The earth had fallen quiet.

I looked to the black river and followed its curves itchy red patches on skin spreading through the hollow. It intersected with other channels, some ran over while other ran through it. But the main torrent lead to a blight in the itchy red patches on skin spreading valley, a patch of broken grey blocks on the edge of itchy red patches on skin spreading the ocean. In the far distance, the endless water licked at the edges of an overgrown itchy red patches on skin spreading city. Miles of grey and black cubes piled over the hilltops itchy red patches on skin spreading in a cancerous mass of chaotic form, leaning ever so slightly to one side.

West of the city, there was a pit. Round and wide, a crater burrowed into the earth on the hillside. Water seeped from the exposed earth and trickled down its itchy red patches on skin spreading slopes, mixing with the snow. Beneath its trails it left white patches, growing outwards like a cancer. The grasses shriveled and turned white and the dirt was itchy red patches on skin spreading sucked clean of its color. Everything was faded. The world seemed to smell of cleaning chemicals and burning itchy red patches on skin spreading – the deep cold smell of fire that you feel in itchy red patches on skin spreading your lungs.

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