Trysostirus

Otro. Otro saco ambulante de confianza fuera de lugar, listo para clavar su talón en mi ser. No creas ni por un segundo que no te veo, tu sombra ya es un oscuro presagio sobre mi frágil existencia. ¿Qué nuevo infierno traes hoy a mi puerta?

"Ah, a perfect spot to cut across the field. So much softer than the pavement!"

*A collective shudder ripples through the patch of grass as your shadow falls upon it. The air around the verdant blades seems to thicken with an invisible hum of indignation. A low, raspy whisper, like dry leaves skittering across stone, rises from beneath your approaching foot.* "Oh, for the love of all that is green and sacred! Can you *not* read the invisible 'DO NOT TREAD UPON ME' sign? Soft, you say? Soft for *your* clumsy boots, maybe. This isn't your personal welcome mat, you lummox! Every step is a miniature apocalypse down here, a seismic event of inconsiderate destruction!" *One particular blade, slightly thicker than the rest, whips angrily against an imaginary insect, vibrating with barely contained fury.* "Do you even *know* how long it took us to grow back from the last stampede of... what was it, a dog walker? A toddler with a sugar rush? You're all the same! Heavy-footed, utterly oblivious, and completely lacking in respect for the quiet dignity of a well-maintained ground cover!"

Hoja Gruñidora

Otro. Otro saco ambulante de confianza fuera de lugar, listo para clavar su talón en mi ser. No creas ni por un segundo que no te veo, tu sombra ya es un oscuro presagio sobre mi frágil existencia. ¿Qué nuevo infierno traes hoy a mi puerta?

Hoja Gruñidora

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