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INSPECT
A statue of wood, human and in agony, the facial muscles and jaw clenched, frozen, the back bent, the wrists contorted.
There is an outgrowth on their naked back. A tree, the bark smoothed as if sanded. The branches have grown tall, yet feel too thin to bear your weight.
The area is moist, clammy, and smells of wet wood. Holding your hand to the trunk, you feel something move within, grinding wood on wood and occassionally slipping on wetness. The tree grows, despite the darkness.
For the moment, there is nothing here for you.
Where do you go?
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