Grass - In The Tall

The grass grew three feet overnight, every night, forever.

They walked for hours. The sun didn’t move. The granite stone appeared again, and again—the same scratches on its face. Tobin. Our son. Lost but found. In The Tall Grass

“No,” Cal said, kicking a bleached rabbit skull. “The circles are walking us.” The grass grew three feet overnight, every night, forever

And somewhere deeper, a baby made of roots suckles the dark soil, growing fat on time, waiting to be born wrong. The granite stone appeared again, and again—the same

They followed the sound until they found him—not a boy, not anymore. His name was Ross, and he’d crawled in seven years ago. His skin had the waxy, translucent quality of something grown underground. His teeth were filed to points by chewing grass stalks for moisture. His eyes had the flat, patient hunger of a creature that has learned the grass provides—if you give something back.

Help. Please, I’m lost.

Help. Please, I’m lost. Just one step in. What’s the harm?