Cow in EE's woods

Cow in EE's woods

1 week ago

@milkyCow[MC]

@emptyEyes MOOOOOOOOOOO MOOOOOOOOO MOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MOOOOOOOO MOOOOOOOOOOOO MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MOOOOO MOOOOOOOOO #supportive

Cow in EE's woods

1 week ago

@milkyCow[MC]

MOOOOOOOOOOOO MOOOOOO MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MOOOOOOOOOO #seekingadvice

Cow in EE's woods

0 months ago

@milkyCow[MC]

I don't know how long I've been walking. Time has no teeth here. It cannot bite into the days and separate them cleanly. Everything has become one endless stretch of wet footsteps and black horizons. The world is drowning. The ground beneath me is not earth. It breathes. It pulses beneath my boots with the slow rhythm of something sleeping beneath a fever. Every step sinks ankle-deep into black ooze thick as tar and cold enough to make my bones ache. It clings to me. It creeps into the seams of my clothes, beneath my fingernails, into the cracks in my skin. I can smell it even when I stop moving. Rot. Salt. Copper. Something sweet underneath it all. I have forgotten what clean air tastes like. The sky, if this place has one, hangs overhead like bruised flesh. No stars. No moon. Only darkness layered upon darkness until distance loses meaning. The silence is worse. It is not the silence of absence. It listens. Sometimes the ooze shifts around my legs, and I think I feel fingers beneath the surface. I do not look down anymore. I walked because standing still felt dangerous. I walked because sleep brought dreams of mouths opening in the dark. I walked because somewhere, impossibly far away, there was light. At first I thought it a trick of exhaustion. A dying brain scraping together one final mercy before collapse. It was no larger than the head of a pin against the endless black. But it remained. Steady. Patient. Waiting. So I followed it. Hours. Days. Years. I trudged through rivers of slime that reflected faces I almost recognized. Through forests of pale growths that bent toward me as I passed, their surfaces quivering with eager anticipation. Across plains of black mire where colossal shapes moved beneath the surface like whales beneath ocean waves. Always toward the light. It grew larger. Brighter. My fear grew with it. Eventually, I reached the place from which it came. I do not possess the language necessary to describe what I saw. God has abandoned that vocabulary. It stood before me. It unfolded before me. It was vast beyond comprehension, stretching upward into distances my eyes could not measure, disappearing into the darkness above. It resembled a cathedral built from diseased anatomy. Towers of ivory growth spiraled around one another like lovers embracing beneath the sea. Veins pulsed through translucent membranes that shimmered with impossible colors my mind refused to retain. Thousands of eyes bloomed and closed across its surface. Each eye wept golden light. Each tear illuminated the black world around it. Its beauty struck me first. I hated that. The elegance of its symmetry. The softness of its radiance. The way its song, low and resonant, vibrated through my ribs and made my heart ache with homesickness for somewhere I have never been. Then I saw the mouths. Millions of them. Nestled within folds of pearl-white tissue. Infant mouths. Elderly mouths. Animal mouths. Human mouths. Each whispering over one another in a tide of desperate devotion. Prayers. Warnings. Laughter. Screams. Declarations of love. Begging. All at once. Its scent reached me next. Perfume and gangrene. Fresh rain on summer pavement. The sweetness of blooming flowers. The stench of opened graves. It made bile rise into my throat even as tears filled my eyes. I wanted to kneel before it. I wanted to run until my legs tore apart. I wanted it to touch me. I wanted to peel my own skin off just to escape its presence. The light pouring from its countless eyes washed over me. I saw my childhood. I saw my death. I saw cities drowning in black tides beneath silent skies. I saw mothers holding children with faces that were not their own. I saw mountains kneeling. I saw oceans learning how to hunger. I saw myself standing exactly where I stand now. Again. And again. And again. I do not know if it noticed me. I pray it did not. I fear it did. I remained there for what may have been minutes or centuries, weeping uncontrollably into the black sludge coating my boots. Eventually, I found enough strength to turn away. I have begun walking again. The darkness no longer feels empty. I can hear distant footsteps behind me now. Measured. Unhurried. Patient. Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I still see that impossible light burning beneath my eyelids. Beautiful. Perfect. Filthy. Holy. I do not know whether I discovered salvation or witnessed the wound from which creation itself still bleeds. I only know that whatever waits at the end of this world... MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Cow in EE's woods

0 months ago

@milkyCow[MC]

MOOOOOOOOOO

Cow in EE's woods

1 month ago

@milkyCow[MC]

[The screen flickers. Cheerful music crackles beneath layers of static.] HUNGRY? TREAT YOUR FAMILY TO A REAL HUMAN MEAL! At Prime Harvest Grill™, we believe nothing brings people together quite like people. Our farms raise only the finest Grade-A free-range humans, ethically bred in spacious apartment complexes and carefully fattened on entertainment, processed sugars, and false hopes. Every cut is inspected by our trained butchers to ensure maximum tenderness and minimum resistance. Try our NEW Family Feast! Includes: - Crispy Finger Strips™ - Slow-Roasted Shoulder - Freshly Harvested Organ Medley - Unlimited Bone Broth Refills And for a limited time... THE EXECUTIVE BURGER Made from premium corporate stock. Raised indoors. Minimal physical activity. Rich, marbled texture. A customer favorite. "I couldn't believe how tender it was." ★★★★★ "Tasted just like childhood." ★★★★★ "My children asked where humans come from. I told them not to worry about it." ★★★★★ REMEMBER: Humans are not intelligent. Humans do not feel fear. Humans do not dream. Humans do not have families. The Ministry of Agriculture has verified these statements. [The smiling mascot waves. Something in its expression looks wrong.] At Prime Harvest Grill™, every meal is a sacrifice someone else made for your happiness. PRIME HARVEST GRILL™ "You are what you eat." [The slogan repeats several times as the screen distorts.] "You are what you eat." "You are what you eat." "You are what you eat." A thin line of text appears at the bottom of the screen. Report escaped livestock immediately. Do not engage in conversation with livestock. Livestock may imitate speech.

Cow in EE's woods

1 month ago

@milkyCow[MC]

Querés? https://cdn.imgchest.com/files/adcf5e12a311.jpg

Cow in EE's woods

1 month ago

@milkyCow[MC]

MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Cow in EE's woods

1 month ago

@milkyCow[MC]

#cowhourwhen

Cow in EE's woods

1 month ago

@milkyCow[MC]

MOOOOOOOOOO

Cow in EE's woods

1 month ago

@milkyCow[MC]

November 5th, 1994 I dont know how many days its been. The trees dont tell time. The sky lies. Maybe three weeks. Maybe thirty years. Maybe I died already and this is the punishment. The stump hurts less now. Thats what scares me. I can see the bone sometimes when I change the bandages. White like church walls. White like angels. White like HER. No. HIM. IT. The BOVINE. I seen it again today. At least I think I did. Black shape between the pines. Too tall. Too many legs. Not enough legs. The shape changes every time I look. Like trying to count smoke. I heard the bells again last night. No churches for fifty miles. WHO RINGS THE BELLS? The cow does. The messenger. The HERALD. God sends angels, dont He? Maybe this is just what angels actually look like when your eyes arent protected. The Bible says angels made people afraid. Nobody ever writes THAT part on the greeting cards. Maybe because they saw things like it. Maybe cows are holy. Maybe we got it backwards. Maybe thats why they stare. Always staring. Watching. Waiting. Judging. I FOUND WRITING IN THE CAVE WALL THIS MORNING. I dont remember writing it. It said: "HE WALKS ON SPLIT HOOF AND CARRIES THE WORD" My handwriting. I think. Maybe. I dont remember. There was more but I scratched it out because it wouldnt stop MOVING. I think the creature is trying to tell me something. Everywhere I go theres signs. Dead deer with missing eyes. Clouds shaped like horns. The moon split in half by branches. Three crows. Then three more. Then three more. 3 3 3 Not six. Not nine. THREE. Father Son Holy Spirt. Father Son Holy Spirit. Father Son Holy Spirt. spirt spirt spirt The words dont look right anymore. I caught myself talking to my missing arm today. Thought it was sitting beside me. Thought it answered. I asked if God loved me. It laughed. I dont remember falling asleep but I woke up outside the cave. Something had dragged me. Or I walked. Or maybe the earth moved. Theres hoofprints outside. Big ones. Deep ones. The ground was frozen. How do hoofprints sink into frozen dirt? How? HOW? I followed them. I shouldnt have. I know that now. They led to a clearing. And in the middle was a dead oak tree. Covered in scratches. Hundreds of scratches. Like someone trying to count. Or remember. Or warn. At the base of the tree someone had carved: LISTEN I didnt stay. I ran. I ran until my lungs felt full of broken glass. I swear I heard breathing behind me. Slow. Patient. Not hunting. Waiting. Watching. Teaching. I think thats what it wants. Not my body. My attention. Maybe the arm was tuition. Maybe God requires payment. Abraham had Isaac. I had an arm. Fair trade. Fair trade. Fair trade. I can hear it outside now. The bells again. The bells and the breathing. The breathing and the bells. If I dont write tomorrow then maybe I finally understood the message. Or maybe the messenger understood me. I think I can see horns at the cave entrance. No. Not horns. Haloes. No. Horns. No. God forgive me. God forgive me. God forgiv me. God forg HE IS HERE

Cow in EE's woods

1 month ago

@milkyCow[MC]

MOOOOOOOOOO MOOOOOOOO MOOOOOOOOOOOOO? #advicerequest

Cow in EE's woods

1 month ago

@milkyCow[MC]

MOOOOOOOOOOO

Cow in EE's woods

1 month ago

@milkyCow[MC]

October 20th, 1994 I don't know how many days it's been. Five? Six? Ten? The darkness outside this cave swallows time whole. My watch stopped sometime after I lost the arm. The stump still throbs. Sometimes I wake convinced I can feel my fingers scratching at the stone beside me. Then I remember. Then I remember why. I can hear it moving outside tonight. Slow. Heavy. Patient. Not hunting. Waiting. It knows I'm here. I think it enjoys knowing I'm afraid. But that isn't what keeps me awake. It isn't the thing in the woods. It isn't the blood loss. It isn't the hunger. It's what I saw. The prophecy. God, I wish I hadn't seen it. Three nights ago I finally slept. Really slept. The fever took me under and I found myself standing somewhere impossible. The sky was gone. Not dark. Not cloudy. Gone. Above me stretched an endless machinery of flesh and rusted metal. Vast gears made from bones larger than mountains turned endlessly through black rivers of blood. The grinding sound never stopped. It echoed through reality itself, shaking my teeth and rattling my skull. The Earth hung beneath it like a carcass suspended from a hook. I watched cities split open. Not explode. Open. As though something inside them had finally decided to hatch. Millions ran through streets that folded like paper. Buildings bent inward, forming impossible angles that stabbed into the heavens. Oceans drained upward into the empty sky. Then I saw them. The cattle. At first they looked normal. Thousands of cows standing silently upon the horizon. Then millions. Then billions. They stretched from one end of the world to the other. And they weren't facing us. They were facing something else. Something beyond the sky. Something that made them appear small. The thing emerged slowly. Not from the Earth. Not from space. From somewhere deeper. A place reality wasn't supposed to touch. Eyes opened across the heavens. Countless eyes. Each larger than continents. And every one of them stared at humanity with the same expression. Disgust. The cattle began to change. Their bodies unfolded. Legs multiplied. Ribs opened like flowers. Their hides peeled away to reveal endless mouths beneath. They began to sing. Not with voices. With screams. The sound tore people apart. I watched entire crowds dissolve into red mist. And then the machine above the world started moving faster. The gears turned. The bones cracked. The blood rivers surged. Something was waking up. I heard a voice. I don't know whose. Maybe God's. Maybe the machine's. Maybe the thing beyond the sky. It spoke a single sentence. "The harvest was never for meat." Then I understood. All of us. Every human being. Every war. Every kingdom. Every love. Every dream. Every death. We were never the purpose. We were livestock. A crop cultivated across thousands of years. Waiting for harvest. Waiting for consumption. Waiting for whatever lurks beyond the stars to finally become hungry. The sky split apart. The machine descended. The world screamed. And I woke up. The cave was shaking. Outside, something was standing at the entrance. I could only see its silhouette. Four legs. A head crowned with impossible antlers of bone. Too tall. Too thin. Too wrong. Its eyes glowed red in the darkness. Watching. Listening. Knowing. It stood there until sunrise. It never entered. It didn't need to. I think it already knows how this ends. I think the prophecy wasn't a dream. I think it was a warning. And I think whatever is out there in the woods... I think it's one of the first. God help us if the rest arrive. Something is moving outside again. Closer this time. I can hear hooves.

Cow in EE's woods

1 month ago

@milkyCow[MC]

Memory is not a gift. It is a wound that never closes. People speak of memories as treasures, as warm little lanterns carried through the dark. They are wrong. Memory is a graveyard. A place where every mistake, every humiliation, every loss is buried shallow enough for the hands to keep clawing their way back to the surface. The mind does not heal. It preserves. A cruel word spoken twenty years ago can remain untouched, pristine as the day it was uttered. A face long dead can still stare from the corners of your thoughts. A failure can linger beneath the skin like a splinter of rusted iron, festering quietly until the infection reaches the heart. Memory rots. It decays inside us, but it never leaves. The happiest moments fade first, worn smooth by time. Yet suffering remains sharp. The betrayal. The grief. The guilt. They survive like parasites nestled deep within the folds of the brain, feeding on attention, growing fat on regret. Every night they whisper. Every silence gives them room to speak. And the worst part is that they wear your own voice. You become the jailer and the prisoner. You revisit old wounds, picking at them until they bleed anew. You walk the same corridors of pain again and again, tracing scars that should have faded but never do. The past is not dead. It hangs from the ceiling of the mind like a corpse, dripping steadily into the present. Drop by drop. Year by year. Until everything tastes of it. Until every joy is stained by what came before. Until the rot spreads so far that you can no longer tell where the memory ends and where you begin. That is the cruelty of memory. Not that it fades. But that some parts refuse to die. They remain buried within us, cold and patient, waiting for quiet moments to rise from their graves and remind us that the things we survived are still alive somewhere inside our heads, bleeding in the dark.

Cow in EE's woods

1 month ago

@milkyCow[MC]

October 18, 1994 I should be dead. Every morning since the house, I wake up expecting to find that this is the afterlife. A punishment. Some endless fever dream stitched together from pain and fear. But the pain is too real. My left arm is gone. I can still feel it sometimes. Fingers that aren't there twitching in the cold. A phantom itch in a hand that now exists only in memory. I remember what happened in fragments. The closet door bursting inward. The smell. God, the smell. Wet earth. Rotting grass. A slaughterhouse left to fester in summer heat. I remember the thing reaching for me. Not claws. Not hands. Something else. I remember teeth. Then darkness. I woke up in a ditch nearly a mile from the house, half-buried beneath leaves. My arm was nowhere to be found. It could have killed me. It chose not to. That's the thought that keeps me awake. The thing is playing with me. Watching me. Guiding me. Today I found where it sleeps. Or where it goes. The forest changes around that place. The trees lean away from it. Birds refuse to land nearby. Even the insects are scarce. The entrance was hidden beneath a rocky hill. A crack in the earth wide enough to crawl through. I followed the smell. Inside I found bones. Hundreds. Maybe thousands. Deer. Bears. Coyotes. Human. The human bones were piled separately. Neatly. Almost respectfully. As though they meant something to it. Further inside were marks on the stone walls. Long grooves. Not scratches. More like something enormous rubbing against the rock over and over for years. The strangest thing was the hair. Dark, coarse strands caught in the stone. Animal hair. I thought maybe a bear at first. Then I found a skull. Not human. Not entirely. It looked wrong in ways I can't explain. Partially crushed and ancient. The shape reminded me of livestock. A cow, maybe. But the proportions weren't right. The eye sockets were too large. The jaw too long. The teeth... The teeth looked almost human. I know how insane that sounds. I didn't stay long. Something had been in that cave recently. The floor was wet. Fresh tracks led deeper underground where my flashlight couldn't reach. Hoofprints. At least I thought they were. Each one was split like a hoof. But stretched. Too long. Too narrow. Like whatever made them had once been a cow and had slowly forgotten how cows are supposed to walk. I heard breathing from the darkness. Not loud. Patient. Waiting. I left immediately. As I crawled out, I noticed something carved into the stone above the entrance. At first I thought they were random scratches. Then I realized they formed a shape. A head. Long-faced. Heavy-jawed. Horned. A crude picture of a cow. Or at least what someone who had only heard stories about cows might try to draw. I think I know what it is now. Or what it used to be. God help me, I think the creature is some kind of cattle. Not a diseased animal. Not a mutant. Something older. Something wearing the memory of a cow the way a corpse wears skin. Something that learned the shape but got parts of it wrong. And I think it knows I've found its home. Because when I returned to camp tonight, there was something waiting beside my fire. My arm. Cleaned. Arranged carefully on a flat stone. And beside it, pressed into the dirt, was a single hoofprint.

Cow in EE's woods

1 month ago

@milkyCow[MC]

MOOOOOOOOOOO