I wonder, if trees are sentient sometimes... they seem to be. Almost malicious at times. This line of thinking started earlier, so I'll begin with that...
Imagine talking to a tree, could you invite a human sized tree to your home? Likely not. Your floors would comprise of the flesh of their people, your walls; crudely painted body parts. Your favorite chair a throne of skulls. Hell, you might heat your house with their remains. Switch it around, with a tree person making his house from the dried flesh of humans, eating off them, burning them to warm him... and you've a horror tale.
I imagine that household plants must think themselves captives in some sick house of hell where they might be the next to die.
Look around your room, and see what is made of wood, simple wood. You could explain the house, but what about that cribbage board? The cutting board? Good God, what if you own a wood working workshop? How impressively awkward.
On my wall, I've a sword made from the bone of a swordfish, the blade is its' nose bone, and its' hilt wood. There's now two races I can't invite into my home with that still showing.
Seriously, I had wooden toys... as macabre as a child having a toy hand, made into a doll.
So, I have no wonder as to why trees are quick to grow and break down buildings, ruin streets, or especially brick houses. I'm sure they view it as purging the wicked from their land.
"If trees screamed, would we still cut them down? Probably, if they screamed all the time, for no reason."
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment