>>6060831>>6060892Your measly tie tongued without premonition or warning, the life of the wood chopping hermit had made you forget the ways of men. Ogmios, the forgotten god of eloquence didnt bother blessing your mouth, and instead he laughed from far away, as if remembering something funny from his days of youth
>>- T-tell me it was real, real.. real like the... like the bark on your corpse. To know what you know, tha- this.. is all i ask. Do you remember the forest, your kin. I do, but i feel.. i dont feel that, that is... it... it's not right."With the sockets of disdain and silence, the trunk’s terrible stare shut your throat out of pure impatience; as if you were the first balding ape he ever endured witnessing trying to articulate words. The judgemental feelings forced the calloused hand to lift away from the bark, as if it were about to bite, and upon laying his sight again on the corpse, the lumberjack discerned at last, the face his eyes had not seen.
– Yes. Yes, animals. All and each thing you remember must be real.
The trunk's stare exploded again.
– Close your jaw if you don't speak!
And your borrowed words, borrowed from god knows who; continue speaking like that, like a debrained man, and your tongue will rot. Continue, you!
The fury dried, and upon seeing the man’s jaw fall again from the surprise, rotten of impatience, the corpse continued.
– What you remember was real, I know it was. I fell on you, to kill you, and I felt your bones breaking, cracking, mortaring under me, like shit beneath the boot.
The true hatred of his hefty words resonated so deeply in the air, that the very consonants rhotacized from wrath.
– You live only because of your God, and instead, I die. Of my people you asked, tongueless almost-man, they were damned through the night. Ripped from the earth and thrown as stones, damned to life without life, death without death, made to be rocks, for trying to kill those who killed them, and for daring to live more than man. And you, for dying like an ingrate, cursed you were, not to perish beneath me, no. Instead you will die of hunger, now that the trees are but mere statues.
We were your living,
I was your death,
where will you be left,
but in the limbo?
