The Ritual

by Adam L.G. Nevill

‘I don’t think I can even stand up.’ Dom stayed silent. ‘Then we’re fucked,’ he eventually said in a voice suddenly empty of any warmth or edge or inquiry. His words were flat and tired; the sound of despair, the voice of yesterday.

I love the description of “the voice of yesterday”. It makes for an impactful emotion and you instantly understand the sentiment.

Further inside the dark cool forest, a wall of bracken erupted around the last few willows, before the taller spruce and firs resumed their blanket dominance where the soil was deeper.

To sit and listen in this exact spot…. Pure Heaven in deep woods.