Holy mother of crap, I'm tired. I've been... sleeping. Believe it or not. If you don't, I don't blame you. I'm having a hard enough time believing it myself. But after I finished with that damn tree... I did intend to post right away. Came online. Commented here and there... but then I laid down and that was it. I slept through the day. The entire freaking day. No nightmares. Just sleep. That tree was... beyond strange. It's taken care of though. I even dug up the goddamn roots. It's probably mostly physical exhaustion since it felt like I was trying to hack into a block of goddamn cement...
Yeah, I wore gloves. Yeah, I wore a jacket. And my jeans and boots and I really was not planning to get the crap actually ON me... but I was using an axe. And there was splatter. It was actually hot to the touch. Like from an actual body. A bit of a uneasy thought, I suppose, considering what (who?) I was trying to cut apart... but whatever. It didn't matter.
What matters... is that it is gone. Back to Hell from which it came.
I went out after posting, axe on my shoulder. The sun had been down for a few hours, but the streetlamps gave me that fake, yellow glow to work by. I honestly don't like that light to begin with. My mind turns the yellow to flaming orange too quick, but I just focused on that damn tree. It seemed bigger at night. The branches twisting high over my head. Casting shadows across the yard that seemed to crawl around when I wasn't looking. It felt like... I had to stay where they didn't reach. It felt like the shadows would wrap around my ankles if I got too close. More than once I jumped back. Jumped to one side. I could swear I felt a tug at my jean leg. Just a light snag of a shadow gnarled branch fishing for its grip. I just... I kept imagining that pull suddenly snapping up - lashing painfully tight around my leg. Binding me. Holding me. Cutting right through to my skin. Pulling tighter. Blood..
My mind... and I don't get along at times.
I had to fight off the What Ifs more than anything else. My thoughts kept spewing the worst at me. Paranoia twisting in my head... but the tree itself just stood there the whole time. Watching. Waiting. I almost felt studied.
The blade sunk in about half an inch.
The bleeding began.
I swung again. And again. And again. The blade sunk deeper. The blood splattered my clothes and face. The tree groaned and creaked in protest.
I felt the shadows reach for my legs again.
I was a mess of sweat and tree blood by the time the wood crackled angrily as it tore from itself and the tree fell. But I still had one last thing to add to my attire before the night could be wrapped up: Soot. I hauled the pieces of bleeding wood and bark to the pit at the back of the property, added gas, a match... et voila. Instant demonic bonfire. Once I had that going, I got the shovel (that Valerie's family DID own) and got to work on the roots. By the time the sun came up, the last roots were burning on my pile. I had some of THE most fitting songs blasting off the laptop.
Then I promptly passed out for a while.
So, in short...
WE DON'T NEED NO WATER - LET THE MOTHER FUCKER BURN.
BURN, MOTHER FUCKER.