In the joyous days of childhood, can you recall playing aimlessly in shallow puddles of the previous days rainwater and sloppy mud? There does exist a swamp so foul, in which puddles you may remember, are quadrupled in size. The contents of said pool, is of waters thick and tinged with greens of sickening vomit and sewerage drains.
Stepping in gives the sensation of falling into an endless black hole. The cluster of reeds that sit at the depths of the over sized puddle, with colours of jungle wood brown, would trap your feet and forbid you to reach the surface. The marshland’s floor is unable to be seen without hours of digging through light grey, mud smothered rotten bark off the enormous trees surrounding.
In the shadows of the devils swamp, stands tall and weary, The Bleeding Tree. Cracked and pitch black, bark like volcanic rock, sits upon this enormous, looming ghost of a tree. A trunk of tremendous height on par with skyscraper. From the ghastly bark, oozes a narrow stream of vibrant scarlet red, sticky and revolting syrup. Any passerby would mistaken it as blood.
Crooked roots of old, in light grey mud, curve into the slushy ground. Branches, frail and wasted like an elderly mans hands, reach from the heights of the shaft. Tiny twigs, snapable with the effort of a tea spoon, stem out in random points of said branches.
The Bleeding Tree’s swamp is of fearsome nature, compared to your childhood puddles.