Saturday, July 11, 2015

100 Words a Day 652

He emerged from the tangled, thorny woods into a small clearing, the only occupant of which was a dilapidated wooden house. It loomed defiant and evil against the encroaching woods, as though rebuking them through its own malignance. The trees, gnarled and seeming to be possessed of a dark sentience, leaned away from the clearing, as though straining to escape some vile thing within.

Unwilling to brave the dark woods again, he cautiously approached the ruined house. The ground was spongy, though it had not rained in days, and he had to fight the sucking mud for each tentative step.

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