The Leaf Eaters
Leaves. I saw one move the other day. They do that after they have fallen to the ground, dried out, turned gold and red and brown. Never when they still dangle from the tree. Never when they are young and sweet and green. After the fall and after they grow dry and brittle and skeletal, they can move. Watch them. Creeping. Crawling. Vampiric. They drink blood. When they grow old and hard, leaves will bite your ankle or suck your toes, drinking your blood. They are not vampires. Old leaves do not turn people into blood sucking monsters. They don't fear the sun. You can't drive a stake through their hearts. They just want your blood as they once suckled at their mother tree. Creeping. Crawling. You'll never see one move. Slowly. Inching along. Making crunching, crackling noises. Stealing your blood. We must stop them. Leaves burn. There are so few of us, setting forest fires, torching trees. They catch us. Put us in jail. Firemen stop our fires never realizing how they hurt themselves. Help us. Stop the leaves. Burn the trees. Destroy the forests before it is too late. Stop the leaves. Dry. Brittle. Skeletal. Bloody leaves.