End of a day in stark sunlight.
The cabin trail scattered gravel.
Upon the cedar tree lies carvings, a desperate reminder of my existence.
These images resurface upon my collapse into the blanketed abode.
I shelter on it, but not under, as the humidity of the season creeps in via half raised
windowpane.
I curse this world for its cruelty but refuse to leave it.
Up through the foliage of bloodred flowers and unnamed foliage lies the gateway.
Swung open through a rotten carving of spruce, a man lies, hand outstretched up to God.
The path follows through the overturned drawers, back into the dining room with a chandelier
blanketing two others, empty shell lodged in the fractured wall. The shattered chain hangs,
exhausted.
Impossible to sleep after a certain time.
This thirty minute period is all the rest I can afford.
They followed me this far and I will not be found.
The other direction is a long and storied hall.
It grows roots into the sides, two painted red and closed off, but sunlight extrudes from wailed
holes.
The end of a hallway is another door. A single slash protrudes it, and it is barely holding
together.
I will not gain more rest in this place.
The anathema weighs on my conscience.
The room grows distant as I grab my bag and head for the opposing exit.
The sunlight spilling out harbors memories I will not think about.
The entrance contains the man, and I waste time taking a blanket from a piece of the network of
withdrawal and shield him from the harsh sun.
I exit the door and will not look back.

End of a day in stark sunlight.
The cabin trail scattered gravel.
Upon one tree lies an arrow, the only reminder of their flowing blood.
From this memento I recollect the start of it all. And the condition I left. My gear weighs heavy on
my back. The humid air is harsher without walls around you.
I grab the arrow to conserve my resources. I need range. I can’t think of what I’ve done but I
know I must do more of it. The price paid for survival is less of what matters. But I am sure they
will return, and I am sure I will be the one leaving.