"Campfire Study"
cold, unknown hands place unnatural death within a circle of stones. the stones are rough, covered with a fine layer of dirt and other organic substances. they look like they’re getting ready for a native american pow-wow, or a ceremonial burial. perhaps they’re weeping over the death of their fellow brother.
up high, the sun delves behind the tall, ancient mountains for a brief rest. the mountains are ready for their evening slumber with the thicket of evergreens covering them like a blanket. the almost silent noise of a flick of a wrist resonates off the trunks of the trees and across the nearby river.
flames ignite the protective armour of the wood in the center. the faces of the stones contort to horror as the colours of oranges, reds and blues fill their eyes with hatred. the sound of the wood’s flesh burning away causes the logs to scream out in crackles, pleading from help from their parents.
like most things, the parents turned away and scoffed. their children were just playing around.
a joke, if you will.
the humans sit on the soil and tilt their heads back and laugh. are they happy about their acts of murder? do they even know?
the moon has taken charge, as the smoke from the death pile rises into the air. the fire claims innocence, but the stones say otherwise. much before the fire had leeched onto the remnants of the children and lashed out at the stones.
the evils on humanity, leads to the hate of the forest.
