the sun had not risen yet, but the easterly wind had a tinge of warmth. rustled the leaves of the trees as if to announce the approaching sun. regally, life in the woods stirred from slumber as if a page in a pop up book.
alone, against the trunk of an old oak sat a body. insects, with no concern for things like proper respect, scurried in and out of the open mouth. the mouth, slack and hanging as if in bewilderment at the predicament it finds itself in was almost comical. rot from weeks of exposure, thank goddess the scent had finally passed, was not pretty.
not pretty in a normal way. beautiful in a grotesque fashion, but not pretty. chunks of skin missing, bone and rotting muscle barely clinging. naked. by the trail of bugs ravaging the genitals and animal marks, it had seen better days.
probably involved living.
the sun finally peaked the first rays of light over the horizon. slowly stretching it’s phantom limbs as it awakes for the day. the muted blacks and grays spring to life. greens and reds and yellows dappled the ground and air. squirrels frantically search for nuts to hoard away as the increasing cold starts to choke the land.
forensics would see that the throat had felt rope the way the cold gripped the land. they won’t as by the time this scene is witnessed it will be just a skeleton with a broken neck and bite marks all over from the animals.
they will never see this beautiful sunrise. hear the babbling brook and the songs of the birds. the tall stag just to the south, smelling for danger. the random bear that shuffles and huffs as it strolls through it’s kingdom. that snake, just next to the windswept leaves, trying it’s hardest to blend in. the ground squirrel about to become dinner.
this is your special spot. the big elm, right over there? see it, with the knothole that is shaped like a child’s drawing of heart? that is where you will sit. you will get to witness this every morning, your own private view. you won’t be lonely, one day every tree will have a guest.
sorry about the bugs.