Work Text:
I can hear someone, or something stepping towards the soft ground which I am rested beneath. My decomposing body should be protected by the tree growing into my corpse, but it seemed I was wrong. I was a fool. I can hear the voice of a young man say, “Boutta go sicko mode”. I do not know what this means, but I am cast with fear. Suddenly, the ground begins to shake and rumble fervently, like when you’re trying to open your pee drawer. “Oh god, oh fuck” I whimper to myself, as fear settles in my roots.
Steps resound above me. I can feel the immense power coursing from this young man. Who is he? What does he seek? I can hear what seems to be a glorious anthem of triumph above me. Is this man celebrating? If so, what? What seems to be dancing and music playing goes on for approximately 69 minutes, before the steps of the young man grow farther and farther away. To this day, I do not know what happened, but I do know this: He is more powerful than anything I have ever seen.