The Goat-Man’s cry

Dark Goddess

I begin to avoid my campsite and therefore the goat-man. Leaving doesn’t seem an option. I am enamored by early morning swims beneath the waterfall and my evening campfire under the forest canopy. So I wander further, where I discover other magical places, and I stay away until the daylight slips behind the mountain.

After three consecutive days, where I breathe the air of silence and feel the heartbeat of the goddess in every ancient tree, I return to my hearth for the night. Alone, I instinctively pause on the threshold just as a blood-curling cry tears through the stillness. Fear clutches at my throat. I know this is the goat-man and I feel his suffering.

I am a stone, invisible to the naked eye. The goat-man rushes past me and disappears further into the forest. Only then do I remember to breathe. My pulse beats slow motion. My feet find ground. I am propelled in the opposite direction, away from the fingers that tighten around my freedom.


7 thoughts on “The Goat-Man’s cry

  1. that looks beautiful 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  2. ”i am a stone invisible to the naked eye” brilliant

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Le “Goat Man”, est comme toute le monde qui a ete inspire par la grande beaute. Une bonne artiste peut inspirer des emotions tres profondes

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Pas du tout, c’est merite, c’etait toujours ainsi!


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