Aokigahara-Sea of Trees
folder
Paranormal/Supernatural › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
4
Views:
1,198
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Category:
Paranormal/Supernatural › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
4
Views:
1,198
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
The forest is not mine, it just is. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibite
Aokigahara-Sea of Trees
Sea Of Trees- Aokigahara Japan
Sitting on a boulder there is a person, clad in jeans and a shirt. Nothing out of the ordinary.
It is cold, not freezing cold but the coldness of a strange forest in spring, in summer…in autumn.
Seasons seem to have no real meaning in this part of the forest where the moss spreads as a green carpet over wood, stone and even living things.
Nothing strange here, you could not even call it strange that you can not tell the gender of this caucasian, european looking person. Definitly not japanese origin.
But..what really would creep the onlooker out, is the person in front of the sitting one. Only some feet keep them apart.Some feet which mean the world.
“Help me” fighing for air, croaking, breathless, clawing helpless on the rope which is winding in a sling around the persons neck, toes barely touching the ground.
“Sorry, you know I can not help you. You came here with the wish to die..and this is what you do” the sitting person tells the damned one in such a calmness, maybe with a hint of pity.
“It is always the same..” a hearthy sigh, a shake of the head and then a flute is pulled out from nowhere.
A wheezing breath, gurgling sounds escape the damned One. Soiled pants, tears streaming down the red looking face,red are also the tears. Some blood vessels must have ruptured.
“Always the same…they are always so sure that they want to die..that there is nothing more to live for and of all places they come here into my forest. Really I wish they had a bit more respect for my forest”
Then he or she is looking up to the person which is still fighting for air and life.
“And then when you feel death aproach…every one of you whines and pleads. Help..oh help…” it sounds mocking, but it is just annoyance and a bit of anger because even as the beeing which it is, it is powerless to grant help.
“My wonderfull forest, filled with your despair and fear and restless spirits…calm down. It is soon over.” And then the melody of the flute is filling the air. Or is it just the wind?
Something else than the sound of panic filled attempts to get air beyond the rope constricted windpipe.
A lullaby for a Damned until the struggling stops
Sitting on a boulder there is a person, clad in jeans and a shirt. Nothing out of the ordinary.
It is cold, not freezing cold but the coldness of a strange forest in spring, in summer…in autumn.
Seasons seem to have no real meaning in this part of the forest where the moss spreads as a green carpet over wood, stone and even living things.
Nothing strange here, you could not even call it strange that you can not tell the gender of this caucasian, european looking person. Definitly not japanese origin.
But..what really would creep the onlooker out, is the person in front of the sitting one. Only some feet keep them apart.Some feet which mean the world.
“Help me” fighing for air, croaking, breathless, clawing helpless on the rope which is winding in a sling around the persons neck, toes barely touching the ground.
“Sorry, you know I can not help you. You came here with the wish to die..and this is what you do” the sitting person tells the damned one in such a calmness, maybe with a hint of pity.
“It is always the same..” a hearthy sigh, a shake of the head and then a flute is pulled out from nowhere.
A wheezing breath, gurgling sounds escape the damned One. Soiled pants, tears streaming down the red looking face,red are also the tears. Some blood vessels must have ruptured.
“Always the same…they are always so sure that they want to die..that there is nothing more to live for and of all places they come here into my forest. Really I wish they had a bit more respect for my forest”
Then he or she is looking up to the person which is still fighting for air and life.
“And then when you feel death aproach…every one of you whines and pleads. Help..oh help…” it sounds mocking, but it is just annoyance and a bit of anger because even as the beeing which it is, it is powerless to grant help.
“My wonderfull forest, filled with your despair and fear and restless spirits…calm down. It is soon over.” And then the melody of the flute is filling the air. Or is it just the wind?
Something else than the sound of panic filled attempts to get air beyond the rope constricted windpipe.
A lullaby for a Damned until the struggling stops