Through the Knothole

Do not look through the knothole, they said. No matter what you hear behind that wall, ignore it.

Of course I didn’t heed the warning. I wonder, now, if they issued it to bait me. Come to think of it, they’ve always been on the wooden side.

But I’m hoping their advice was genuine. I’m hoping they’ll notice I’m gone and come looking for me.

Fast.

The plant, if that’s what it is, is burrowing its roots into my skin – sounds painful but isn’t. At the moment, it’ll take secateurs to free me. Soon, I fear, it’ll take an axe.