River of Death


The jungle along this section of the river is without empathy. It did not grieve for the explorers who anchored here and struggled into the labyrinth, the thicket of trees, vines, and  who disappeared, the ones whom the roots came out of the ground and made prey of. Blind roots that searched by touch. The roots, which bored through the soil, came up, and seized the natives. It wrapped round legs, and then twisted up torsos, winding round them–and squeezed the life from them like pythons. Then the land was bound to the living men, and the land fed off their blood. Look at this place, just look at it. It is a plague of cold, fog, tempests, disease, exile, and death– skulking in the air, in the water, in the bush. These forgotten men died like flies here. And if we anchor here so shall we.

 

100 proof exertion of writing

3 thoughts on “River of Death

    • Don’t your license plates say “The Stink State” in New Jersey? 🙂
      Hey I like the new profile picture. That hatchet lighting makes you look dark and complex like some vanguard Horror writer who possibly kills hitchhikers when he gets writer’s block.
      On a serious note, I apologize for missing your articles at PFC. I have had some serious health problems and have been bed ridden for a few weeks. Will fill you in more in an email. Thanks for stopping by my humble blog.

      • I’m sorry about your health issues. Feel better and don’t rush yourself.

        You know I can’t not make jokes, but I liked th eimagery of your vignette above. Well done.

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