Decay

1

Between my thumb and forefinger I held an unlit match. I stared at the maroon tip before striking it alongside the box's rough patch. Immediately sulfur waft to my nostrils as the end sparked and flamed. I remembered the story, but never before today believed any of it true. Just like every fairytale, whether good or bad, its plot was full of wonder and awe, yet as I thought more about its classification I believed it probable as something more than fiction or mythology. Whatever the case and no matter how outrageous it appeared, this story was unlike anything ever written and reality for an ignorant world.

The match grew hot between my fingers and I dropped it into a tin silver ashtray. As flames died among ash and burnt remains of previous match sticks I followed the smoky trail it produced in its demise. It curled upward and I frowned. If the story rung true she imagined human kind in a devastating twist of events. Only time would tell.

If in their power were abilities both fantastic and plausible one might consider them godlike. However the argument is are they truly gods or something far more influential? Hard to believe something new and mightier than that of a god existed. It staggered the senses.

Now gazing out my window I surveyed the land below.  Far and wide macabre manifestations scaled the grounds known as Screaming Woods. More than wood and leaves, trees twisted, bent in all directions and waved their branches as deep sunken eyes, jagged mouths and malformed orifices opened along their trunks. Bellows resonated from the gaps and sent chills; chills so pronounced thy forged Goosebumps and hurried travelers toward a secure destination.  Challengers who sought to solve the woods mystery never returned less in shreds. Rumor has it the woods themselves were cursed and cursed by Ancients. A unique vision of such beings bound to horrors ways of existence, warping reality so that terror might harvest minds.

2

Under halogen brilliance he positioned his scalpel. As it sawed into the thick meat he began to hum. He might not have been an accomplished singer, but he was a successful mystery solver. Though he devoted much of his years to medicine he considered himself more than just a man wearing scrubs day in and day out answering to patients with their petty concerns. A smile ceased his song from under his pristine mask. With four strings it tied together at the back of his skull. He spied the wall clock and made note of the time, never seizing the peeling of gore away from bone.

"The human mind is a labyrinth is a mystery beyond the boundaries of sorrow and obsession," the man in white explained. "The more we explore the more we can understand."

My examination of his scalpel ended as it glinted upon its decent into another twitching muscle.  I turned then.  I didn’t need to see to know what happened next.  It was engraved in my memory from the thousands of times before. 

“You may leave now,” he said gently and I made my exit without delay.  The blood spattered walls however were not confined to just this room.  In the corridor where I broke into a run mutilated bodies were stacked like logs as various organs littered corners and decay riddled every inch.