by Madison Hackett
Buzzing. The thought recurred to him constantly like the pulse in his ears after a long run. It felt as if a hoard of insects were crawling around every singular inch of his brain. When trying to distinguish the sensation in his journal, he likened it to an insatiable hunger always painfully quivering in his stomach. For weeks, nothing had worked to silence it, not even sleep, until he was there.
In the foggy, dense wood, it stopped. Finally free to exist, he inhaled the cool morning air and observed the dark backdrop of coniferous trees spreading out from his position in rings. When he laid his hand on the closest trunk, the bark softened to his touch. Slowly, the evergreen began to consume him - wooden fibers running up his arms and torso, pulling him deeper into its core. He was finally at peace.