Waves of heat and damp. The mud floor is packed with dead vines, leaves, rotting grasses. The smell of rich decay roils the wet air. Towering trees rear towards the unseen sky, higher and higher until they vanish into the verdant canopy above. Vines coil around the huge trunks like serpents. Exotic flowers bloom in the semi-light with petals in shades of mauve, scarlet, and fire.
        Frogs colored in blinding shades of crimson and lemon yellow leap among the undergrowth, disappearing with a splash into some unseen stream. A mottled brown and olive snake slithers past, flicking its forked tongue in time to some unknown internal rhythm. It winds sluggishly up the thick trunk of a tree and curls around a low branch, inspecting the lush plant growth with beady eyes for signs of movement. Above the lower canopy of branches and crowded leaves, a bird caws loudly. Another bird answers faintly from far off. Insects clack and buzz through the dead foliage below.
        There is a splash from somewhere nearby. A loud shriek, suddenly cut off, as the predator consumes the unfortunate prey. Sweat clings to your neck and back, as everpresent as the great trees. Always there, watching, waiting, hungry. Wanting to survive.

number three | number five