Fatima's Diary

reflections for the lost

40. Land of Nightmares

I have entered a land of nightmares. We were riding hard along the road to our destination, flanked on each side by trees, with a green canopy of above us. I could see the trees reaching their green fingers to the sun, arrow straight as any truth is. Then, the only sounds that met my ears were my companion's horses and my own. The bright morning sun dimmed its light, as if it never fully gazed upon us.

I looked around and I knew the things that make fear. The trees around us did not look even distant cousins of their brethren still within sight behind me.

As if the sun were beating them with its slighted gaze the trees around us grew nothing in the semblance of straightness. Twisted branches seemed to reach at us as we rode by catching cloaks and nipping the flanks of our horses. The road narrowed, and the dirt became dustier, choking us. When we rode through thicker groups of forest, the canopy overhead seemed unusually low and it blocked an amazing amount of light for having so few green leaves.