The branches spread across her, plaiting down her arms and wrapping a tight embrace round her body. The wood creaked as it stretched its long-dead limbs outwards, sculpturing itself into a spry new form. It moulded itself onto her in a kind of organic carpentry, cracking its own joints and locks apart to better latch onto her. As the boxs curves hugged to her own and its hinged dug into her shoulders she shuddered, feeling its existence blur into hers, changing both her and it forever. She felt its magic fuse with the fire in her guts, leeching life from her and fusing the two of them forever. She stood, her clothes shredded by this new wooden raiment and covered her like armour. And she marvelled at the spikes that stuck out from her shoulders and back, stared open-mouthed at the wooden blades protruding from her arms. The box that had held all the worlds evils had made her a weapon. She felt powerful. And afraid. #microfiction
Posted on: Thu, 25 Sep 2014 19:09:00 +0000
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