Blackfeather Woods Black Adder

forward dating to April 23rd

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Someone’s forgotten god glides through the copse, a vein in widow’s black. Her endless belly gorges with blood. She is ravenous still. For her, killing comes quickly and with ease.

There is his deep silhouette, the heat of which only she will see. She homes in, alternating twists of one long muscle, ambling in pleated armor.

He considers the snake, he is the first to do so. In the grand stretch of world, she is an ill-conceived tube, odorous and without limb. She cannot scream. There is no fellow feeling to bear witness to this concede of death.

He grips her slithering head and her body grips his slithering neck. He vows to share her, it’s not alone that he takes god into his mouth.