The Shrug of the Hamadryad
….the killer paused, crouching into the underbrush. A gnat landed on his brow and was trapped there forever, drowned in sweat. The killer shifted into the shadows at the base of a tree and, back to the bark, sniffed the air. His deliberate sifting of the air particles effectively separated and identified the smells of any mammalian being. It was noon and hot with it, somewhere above the green canopy the sun shot down overhead. The killer had already spread from one end of his boundary to the opposite side, where he had abandoned the last outpost. The wind was not but a breath forced between the trunks surrounding the killers tongue, which flicked out in trying to spot what, what, what?
Something living, here in the forest, where the naked killer took refuge. It was a nice breather, it had been a long days night of extermination. It had been a grim, grisly, gladdening day- much blood had been let in some pretty intricate ways, and he had left behind ghastly designs on absolutely decimated vessels wallowing in the wake of the trail of despair. The killer was on a roll, and refused to be satiated. He couldnt remember when or why he had disrobed in his revelries, all that was behind him then. The killer listened closely, evenly breathing, tensed to sense the scent of prey again.
Had he seen a flicker of movement, smelled a perfume? Was that a rustle? Everything around the killer seemed to mimic his perfect stillness. There, again a flash in his peripheral vision, causing the killer to salivate. Every joint loosened and filled with blood. Shading himself behind the tree, he quickly stood upright against the trunk. The lust to let it out all over the place, to whip it open with hot knives, to rollick in the roil and rolling of the eyes of the driving- its home was all consuming at this point. This was as it should be with the killer, it always had been this way and its never gonna turn off.. the killers sweat sprang from his head as he whipped it about, searching for the movement that spoke to him of life to dom and of life to be ceased. This was close, there was no doubt. Someone or something meant the same thing to his slits, immediate gratification, a finish to thriving and the beginning of putrescence and decay. There, again, ( 60 miles wide and 5 miles long) was a flicker, a turn of sun on a leaf pushed aside.
…..the killer caught a sight of...her. She was still, and the wind whipped the fields around her.
…..the killers eyes goggled and he gurgled deep, engorged down in his hiding place. The child was not clothed either, tho the stratosphere bent and covered her, the sun targeted her greedily, clouds of bees and butterflies focused upon her and she flicked her fingers between them, thrumming from her toes who hid amongst the daisies in the path. All the dropped berries rolled towards her, the grass waved to support her, the puffed seeds of the forest tumbled in the sunwash that emanated from the childs pulse. Her pressure expanded in every direction, and the killer was struck dumb by the sight of her, and by the lusts that expanded within him as he hid in the shadow of the tree.
…..then, she disappeared and the cloud of butterflies dispersed in way too many directions. The killer slowly blinked his eyes and then rubbed them for the first time in a long time. He had seen some pretty strange and crazy shit in his day tho, and he slowly scanned the clearing with his swiveling eyes and pivoting body. Nothing. Finally, he stepped from the shadows. The killer decided that she must still be close, there must be a dip or a ditch in the green growth he stalked thru. He was breathing hard with his excitement, the edge of the instinct, wide open ready, enraged by so much beauty. He moved quickly and stealthily around the thickets, trying to catalogue exactly what part of her he would idolize as trophy, realizing that depended upon the prize and what her tastes were, when the undergrowth snagged his foot and he fell towards a fallen log. The killer fell hard across this obstacle, and his body crashed thru the log which had decayed to murky rotten and crumbled to powder splinters. It was a lot of noise, altho there was no harm done to himself. He remained motionless on the forest floor and caught his breath. The killers ears scanned the surroundings as he panted and swore, prone.
Soon, then, there she was again. The killers eyes noticed a shimmer reflecting on countless ribs of glass, no grass, and tracked the beams back to where her skin and the sun swallowed each other, forcing a light too intense for the killer to withstand. The killer was awestruck. The sun waved thru her and down upon him. He was not able to coherently gather what he was witnessing as his senses were disassembled. He caught himself gibbering and absentmindedly brought his knife hard up to his mouth and banged the serrated edge of it into his lip and the cut began to bleed. The naked sun-drenched child was 20 feet away, dancing, swirling, flying waving wavering???
the killer shaking fought to control his emotions, searching for that absolute foundation of destruction for abortions sake by follies and perversions, the deep dip of his natures void and relaxation, the killer struggled to eliminate the total happiness he was immersed in, the control to put into, to possess complete and at once, the last one. Always the last one. He spasmed in the grass and thickets and his knife pressed into his face until the blood ran down between his canines and onto his tongue. Agonizingly the ecstatic killer slowly came back into the possession of his body. His lips were lacerated and the blood, yes, was running down the blade he gripped. The hot trail snaked between the stubble of his throat, flooding from one pore to the next as the sun hopped in the forests steams. He focused his eyes and muscles and stalked toward the light.
Flowers bloomed and swooped huge off the stalks around the girls form and the ivy waltzed with her. Frogs and wasps spun and clumped a buzz in concert with her trilling voices, the symphony humming in surrounding this shining, all-soaking child. She turned to regard him at the very last moment she could have.
Seeing into what her face was almost crippled the killers intent. He could not feel his body, twas rag doll floppy. Remembering is where he went, timelessly, flawlessly into the all or nothing places and the killers mind surged with she is slowing, all that shit I took, tired as hell, want to end this what that I cannot have ever. The killer stumbled forward, all being numbed.
The girl stood naked, unafraid, knees deep in a raw earth scoop, toes clenching the wet brown soil, clothed in sunlight, and her eyes guided his limbs where to place themselves, for the killer was steeped in his delirium. Every fever seethed forth from his brow, his dizzied eyes found purchase on the knife he clenched in his trembling fist, his lungs pulled weight him down and in focusing on this the killer overbalanced and fell forward upon his knees at the edge of the lip before where the girl and the sun amplified manifestation. The killer grovelled there, choking and coughing as pollen filled his chest, and the spiders hangled swirls of leaves, brocaded with their threads into curtains around her as dozens of squirrels jumped to and from her growing blanket of hair, the chittering of birds pierced the killers ears, and these birds flitted and lit on the flora, sat there and rebuked the killer, as he thrashed and tried to maintain his will.
The killer gritted his teeth and pressed his head to the ground, attempting to stabilize his bearing, himself. He squinted his eyes down what he found to be his arm to where hand grasped blade, and he connected this vision to what he finally knew and comprehended as his arm and his blade. he was feeling as tho drugged, he experienced a moment of triumph at this simple connection thru. His motions were unsteady and sluggish as his brain struggled to grasp exactly why it was that he was feeling this way, how had he come to be kneeling at the feet of this girl, why he was even BEING here at all. His thoughts were tattered and rolled thru his mind ticker tape crepe, and were disappeared in the flames of his rapidly rising anger and into the confusion and ignorance of self, where the only things that felt right were his teeth and his knife. And the killer gripped and steadied himself thru the steel. His sweat melded his hand to the haft of it. He brought his knees up under his chest and knelt in the clearing. The killer was a clotted, squatted shape, lifting and plunging the knife again and again into the ground under his feet as his arm shivered the steel that was the blade.
The thump of the heel of his hand hitting the earth traveled thru it and ricocheted against his legs, which thrummed and began to sing to him from a million miles away. The lust the killer was cored with surged the deputation of his saliva, the screaming roil in his guts demanding confirmation and release, the call of what would make him total would be the squish crunch smash up of flesh rending in his hands, mangling the vessel til it was rent, useless, seized and all used up, fit for nothing save dispersal. The killer wadded up lives as so much used tissue, laden with snot and shit, to be tossed. The killer summoned a spasm of ignition, willing limbs to animate the violence in which he sought all attention to joining the point on the tip of the knife slashing thru the pain of this wonder dream child. He was gagging with the effort and presented a tragically twisted, leering jostle of insanity, flailing from his liquid knees, rubbery and ludicrously menacing.
Ivy grew dancing between lily and lotus entwined ever so slowly raising to meet a mistletoe draped canopy, a panoply of blue jays hawks and crows passed in whizzes and swoops fanning the childs hair set in sun and every hair was ray and every ray was magnified and mirrored the rays around as a water well burbled up from under her feet running fresh and sweet into the undergrowth to forge a streambed even as rocks popped to the surface of the earth in cadence to the purities humming, ululating voices.
The naked killer, stunned blind and deaf, choked the grip of his knife and lunged wild, instinct striking out at the very brightest point that surrounded him, a sure way to kill light if you do not know the formula already. That moment arrested the progress of the next moment, in which the killer sought his reward and release in the snuffing of the snow white blare.
A cloud blotted the sun, all animals scattered flash broke ran flew and were lost in the gray suddenly etched out the existence of every vein of every leaf outline, twigs, bark grain, blade of startled grass, and the wind died. she regarded him slow, new and puny, straining to kill, wanting to become the arbitrator twixt the twins of ultimate creation and destruction. The very picture of an ugly lunging ignorant creature on the culmination was molasses slow intending to impale her. Buds unfurled leaves springing from her fountain of hair.
The killer opened his eyes to see the blade plunged deep into the childs middle, an instant later and he saw everything that had fled her eyes, he felt how her body had given to the point so far as to go past the blade and up to the hilt. His thumb, with the blade, was buried in her abdomen. He had thrust so hard, most of her weight was on the killers knife and she was raised to her toes, upright, hair screaming to the skies and her splayed toes wriggling into the ground, burrowing root snakes. The killer found no joy as he realized the shock and pain he sucked for was absent in his victim. Her face was serene, placid and stern. He read reproach in her eyes and she raised both her hands to her hair which was now rigid with masses of leaves. The wind returned and howled above as he failed to pull his knife free for another go, he was held fast inside her midsection. He struggled helplessly as his arm was caught in her vice. Her eyes were streaming rivulets of grains stretching back towards her furrowing ears and her mouth bent wide and back. In shock, his body laxed. The childs body of millions of expanding fibers shot thru his hand, fingers, knife and bone. the childs eyes had bent outward and sprayed the rest of the killers face with shaving scales. The childs eyelids pulled apart, rising far above the forehead as her eyes enfolded themselves to one that disappeared into the branches of her hair and arms, engulfing the killer and he could see naught but the hugeness of her eye which had now entrapped his entire arm, shredding that limb, her bark extended over his forearm to his shoulder and ribcage. The lashes of her eye thickened, broadened, sprouting lashes of their own, her iris first contracted then expanded, the black spilling over into the separateness of her gnarled and swelling trunk, the white pulling over the killers scream was silenced as a branch shot thru his mouth and socked out the back of his skull, unfurling budding leaves as it went. her bark and twigs pushed into and over his flesh, lifting him high into the air as she took root in the fundament and SQUEEZED. The dryad crashed UP. The cool air was propelled outward as she inhaled the mass of air around her at a fantastic rate. A thunder clap slapped out as the obliterated killers pulp was swallowed up into this dryads transformation of the tree she ever was, witch splayed out and upward growth fused and complete, roots reinserting and clasping with her grove sisters, messaging secreting, giggling as the sun played on the trees laughing, budding the wind, flew threw the airs and she was sycamore.
Birds picked swatches of shirt lodged way up in the forks of a sycamore dryad. You could hear the ping the knife made as it dropped from the branches and plunged blade first into the earth some 50 feet below.
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