Hello. I am Lamaloth. This is a gothic short story.
Lamaloth Short Stories
Visit www.lamaloth.com


The bleeding tree (Version 1,5.)

The woodcutter took the axe from the ground. He did not pay attention to the bruises of the blade, and continued cutting, as he had done until now. With each axe blow, the tree seemed to come down. The man observed the trunk he had before his eyes, and sighed for a long time. A sigh dedicated to the memory of that centennial trunk, now that its fall was about to happen. He was scared to be killed, without knowing why. He breathed deeply. He aimed a last axe blow, with more force. The edge of the axe penetrated the crust of the tree, but when trying to remove the blade, he could not do it. He was forced to place a foot in the trunk, but even so, he could not make much pressure, for he thought that the tree would come towards him, not knowing any explanation for that thought that tortured him so much. With the foot placed in the tree, he made an effort to remove the blade, cleaved in the crust. The blood of a centennial tree began to flow from the wound, while he fights to loosen the axe, since he could not remove the blade. But it was impossible. The hands did not respond. He could not open the fingers to loosen the handle that per moments was fused with the ardent blood coming from the crust. He was incapable to move a muscle. The vision of death terrified him, and he could contemplate nothing but a tree of whose crust brought forth the ardent liquid that began to burn him, which did not leave sign of burns. When he could finally move the eyes, but not the body, he contemplated a figure in the surface of the trunk, while he did the impossible to not faint. He did not want to lose a single detail of what happened. But he could not either bear that frightful vision. The silhouette of a woman turned into a relief in the trunk of that tree, hurt by him. The hands of the woodcutter continued fixed in the handle of the axe. His immovable body was the visible sign of a horizontal edge, that had left its mark in the living crust of the tree. Before him, the silhouette of the woman, that attracted him, and that he could not flee from, in that situation. The spirit touched the head of the woodcutter and whispered several words to him, that the man was not able to understand, but sinking him in deep sorrow, for the voice was marked by suffering. He contemplated the figure as she disappeared within the tree, and when she did it, he managed to loosen the hands of the handle. He watched his hands, covered with blood, and he shouted. He knew what had happened. He had torn a body apart, and he could not calm her pain. He watched his hands and shouted. He was still in cell 45 of the block D at the county prison, and he had had a real nightmare.

Thanx for reading...

wow i really liked that it was really good. Welcome to the form I love it here I am sure you will too.
Rose

********************************
Before him, the silhouette of the woman, that attracted him, and that he could not flee from, in that situation. The spirit touched the head of the woodcutter and whispered several words to him, that the man was not able to understand, but sinking him in deep sorrow, for the voice was marked by suffering. He contemplated the figure as she disappeared within the tree, and when she did it, he managed to loosen the hands of the handle.
***********************************

Really nicely written, you have talent, welcome to the forum, keep posting.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx