The mud clutches his boots. Slowly he sinks in the soft ground. A hand-shaped leaf reaches up to taunt him. The screaming voice remains silent. It is gone for now. The drugs help.
They are under the surface. A chill runs down his spine. The smell of rot fills the dead air. His bowels slither deep in his gut.
Faces shimmer in the gray light. He laughs.
Photo linked via Crimson Edge Press.