It lurks in the shadows. It doesn't creep, or slither, or sneak. It just gazes from above, as towering as the trees that keep it hidden with their rickety, dried shaky branches.

Air freezes around it, but time doesn't. Seconds pass, yet feel like eons, and a veiny vignette invades your bloodshot sight, slowly but firmly.

It doesn't speak, but chants forbidden and forgotten songs from primordial depths, numbing your senses and weakening your bearing until you grovel at its feet, mute and deaf.

Stay out of the woods at night, maybe?