Thread Tangles

The ground is devoid of vegetation: just packed, dried dirt. The trees here could’ve died centuries ago. Their trunks are hollow and soft, stripped of their bark and devoid of color. This is made up for, of course, by the hundreds of thousands of threads that have been draped over the aching limbs. Plump yarns ranging from the deepest reds to the lightest blues, strings so soft they may unravel at your touch, or some durable enough to be used for fishing line. The threads are so plentiful, in fact, that you could swear they grow from the trees like leaves, tangling themselves from trunk to trunk like vines, splaying themselves across the ground like their own root systems. It looks both like the biggest prank ever and a work of art, but even though the trees are dead, the beady eyes staring down at you from within them are very much alive.