The Woodland

The footpath led to it. It was nearly nine in the evening. The neighbourhood had seemed to settle, the atmosphere was peaceful and quiet. The only noise you could detect was the childish giggle in the distance. The presence of this giggle was quite eerie at first, almost as if it did not belong there. However it seemed to worry passers-by, as if something was not quite right. It was trapped right in the centre of the woodland, almost as if there was no-way in no-way out. It was closed off in a circle amongst half-empty beer cans, half-smoked spliffs, shattered WKD bottles and discarded crisp packets. A perfect hide-out for anti-social behaviour. Amongst all of this lay the baby, bright blue-eyes and a tuft of bright blonde hair, he sat there on the remnants of an old blanket. Perched upright like a young boy engrossed in the teacher's lesson. Who-ever the teacher was, seemed unclear at first.

Yet this baby seemed to have sat there hypnotized by this tree, the tree that seemed to have been teaching, entertaining, luring the youngster into it's underworld. I myself cannot seem to describe it, this baby, like any other baby had a very active imagination. But there was not any bright flashing lights, no innocent toys to play with, nothing that would entertain or stimulate such a young persons mind. How-ever the baby continued to shriek and giggle. Every once in a-while he would clap his hands applauding the tree when it shuddered it's branches or groaned loudly, it's bark cracking whilst doing so.  It did this action again, this time even louder, but as the bark seemed to crack the bottom of the tree seemed to spread, it seemed to disfigure, almost creating a smile.

The baby looked absolutely besotted with the tree and began to crawl even closer to it. Suddenly the tree shook it's branches hard, rubbing on his neighbours. The baby stopped. Forthwith, a pile of bones came clattering to the floor, just missing the child.   The baby turned towards the pile. Another rustle.... crash, another rustle....crash. More bones, a skull.  Like a curious cat, the baby went over to this pile to play in it, banging bones together, sucking on the ends that were stained with blood. Poking and prodding a man's skull.

Rustle, rustle, rustle, rustle..... crash. A red bag fell onto this pile of bones. The baby astonished examined this bag, all blood-ridden and dusty. Gold lace held the bag tight, but what-ever lay in it was not suitable for a baby's innocence at all. 

 

 

The End

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