The rainforest can be a dark and forbidding place. In the flood of life no ground is left idle, vines and creepers hang thick from a canopy that cuts out the sun. Creatures can be heard but not seen. The thick undergrowth hides danger, so near yet out of sight. This is jungle, and left alone it will smother and reclaim. Unless something poisons the soil beyond redemption; then only decay survives: no creature or bird comes by, no plant will grow, In such a place, unchanged through millennia, hate can fester in isolation; its memory can endure as strong as reality, keeping it waiting; until unsuspecting, its victim happens by. Can some sin can transcend time, reaching through lust and hate, into the future. Can the undead take the place of new life to live again, this time forever
