The whistling of the trees had struck me once again. Their transparent, chilling voices whisper loudly nearby in a manner much like the call of an alpha wolf to its pack, without the subtle animalistic hints. I quietly complained to myself under light breathing; the disruptive tumult manually imposed by the trees on nature's terrain created a disturbance that in an instant had suddenly corrupted my mind. I seemed to lack proper concentration in that noisy environment. I slump, letting out a sigh. As much as I enjoyed nature, the conversations quickly erupting from the vegetation were simply distractions that took me away from what I was primarily focused on: taking a careless walk in the woods. At that point, the dancing green leaves shared a mutual laugh, screaming triumphantly at the human presence. I assumed it was mine, as I never imagined other people taking up residence near my family, much less anyone else roaming the same wooded areas as me. That was never the case, and it wasn't going to happen anytime soon. At least that's what I personally decided. The forest seemed at peace without any suffocation having disturbed the quiet of things. The scenery for me was always breathtaking and exquisite; as I remembered walking with my beloved kitten along paths lined with lush green grass, fields of sunset orange and pink poppies would soon become perceptibly evident to our eyes as they openly dotted the vast land. Their vibrant colors would confuse both Mr. Midnight and me. It was not an illusion nor was it a figment of our imagination. The captured visions that we absorbed and swallowed in the back of our heads were definitely real, and have been preserved since the first time we laid eyes... in the middle of the paper... soulless children's heads captured the my attention, while the trees drooled with the same blood. My heart was in my mouth. I was empty of thoughts and words to say. Wandering further into the hellish world, the oaks began to deteriorate from the natural bodies in which they were born. Their shapes transformed into soaring, twisting, distorted branches, devoid of veined leaves. The shadows of the branched, barren bodies of the forest cast themselves upon me. Mr. Midnight walked silently at my side; his reassuring meows at random times comforted me. At a certain point, the outline of the rope entered my field of vision. Hanging from the top of a rotten, blackened tree, there appeared to be a tire tied to the end. The tire wobble swung from side to side like the external mechanisms of a metronome. I smiled to myself, identifying it as the same tire hanging from an oak tree in front of my house.