A weary traveler stands at the entrance to a softly glowing mess of green foliage stretching out for miles. He wears nothing but a roughly torn cloak, and worn sandals. His feet, once pink with content, were almost black. Beads of sweat trickled down his skin, and he wiped his face with his ragged gray sleeve. He seemed out of place here. The bindlestiff carried nothing but a small sack on his back, and his eyes were dark from drowsiness. He took a swig from the leather canteen hanging from his aching neck. Tufts of hair stuck out in every which way from his chin. When he attempted his first step into the glowing green forest, he collapsed to the flower scattered ground, and everything went black.
The bindlestiff awoke to a sort of warming brightness. He was in the middle of the green glowing forest. He jumped up with alarming readiness. Dozens of small figures about the size of his thumb surrounded his body. He tried running but some mysterious force shrouded his conscious, making him all of a sudden want to stay. The small and delicate figures started crawling up his body, their large glassy eyes like a car’s headlights, staring into his soul. He tried to resist but it was no use. The small creatures sang a sort of light and comfortable song making him smile with some sort of content. He shouldn’t have ever gone here… now he would die in the forest of legend he took so long to find. A blanket of relaxation shrouded his surroundings. Before he new it, he was slowly being eaten alive by the inhabitants of the Foliage of Relaxation… he was only an echo, erased from time itself…
© Boundless Daydreams 2016
Image: Samuel Dixon