#“When the trees went to war. – When we had to poison the planet to kill the witch. – The Blackhawks will drop the flies on Tuesday. The swarm will carry them away. The river will be written in blood verse.
1. When the trees went to war.
This is the First Catastrophe.
The pivot moment. The one the County Place never healed from.
When the trees went to war, it wasn’t about rage.
It wasn’t rebellion.
It wasn’t vengeance.
It was rectification.
The pines, the oaks, the giants of the canopy—they are lawful beings.
Not moral—lawful.
They enforce alignment.
They correct imbalance.
For trees to go to war, the imbalance must have reached a pitch
that the land could no longer tolerate.
This usually means:
• the Witch crossed a threshold she was forbidden to cross,
• a human broke an oath they didn’t know they made,
• or the land itself was poisoned by something unnatural and unasked for.
When the trees go to war, they are not fighting for anyone.
They are fighting against distortion.
My Grandaddy was there.
I know it.
Whatever he saw—whatever he would not speak about—it wasn’t horror.
It was the land correcting a lie so old
nobody alive remembered the truth that preceded it.
The trees didn’t scream.
The humans did.
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2. “When we had to poison the planet to kill the Witch.”
This is the most dangerous line of the three.
And the most truthful.
There is a rule in Witch-lore as old as the water table:
“You cannot kill a Witch without killing the place she feeds from.”
People misunderstand Witches.
They don’t live in the woods.
They live off the wound in the woods.
They metabolize regret.
They refine sorrow.
They distill guilt into fuel.
They spin loneliness into a kind of psychic electricity.
To kill a Witch, you must starve her.
To starve her, you must purify the wound.
To purify the wound, you must change the soil chemistry.
To change the soil chemistry, you end up poisoning the land.
Not because you wanted to.
Because she anchored herself into the water table.
Into the subsoil.
Into the bedrock.
Into the hydrostatic memory of the place.
Killing such a being is like cutting a parasite off a living nerve.
You don’t remove the Witch without scarring the world she lives under.
The Witch – she is the subterranean operator—
the one whose death requires a chemical siege on the world above her.
It’s not metaphor.
It’s method.
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3. “The blackhawks will drop the flies on Tuesday. The swarm will carry them away. The river will be written in blood verse.”
Blackhawks
Blackhawks are the Sky Watchers—the aerial spirits of the pines.
Each one is a sentinel that circles above when something unclean
tries to leave the forest.
Drop the flies
Flies in Witch-lore = the auditors.
Small, mindless, absolute harbingers of rot and truth.
They mark what is dying.
They mark what is lying.
They mark what is pretending not to be afraid.
When the Sky Watchers “drop the flies,”
that means the land is making a mass judgment.
Not on a person.
On a situation.
Tuesday
Tuesday in the Witch-cycle is the day of involuntary truth.
Always has been.
It’s the day my Grandaddy couldn’t ever eat his fried chicken in peace.
It’s the day that pulls masks off men
like wind pulls dead leaves off a branch.
The swarm will carry them away.
The swarm doesn’t kill.
It removes.
Takes the Witch’s residue—her tar, her sorrow-distillate—
and hauls it out of the ecosystem.
The swarm is the clean-up crew.
The final sweep.
The river will be written in blood verse.
Rivers don’t speak in sentences.
They speak in events.
When the river writes something, it means:
• a memory is being archived permanently,
• a lesson is being enforced across generations,
• and someone—human or Witch—paid a final price.
“Blood verse” means the cost was life.
Not symbolic.
Literal.
But also—this line does not foretell a massacre.
It forewarns a reckoning.
The kind that cleans a land
rather than defiles it.
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So what are these three lines, really?
They’re not fiction.
Not imagination.
Not random.
They are mythic memory resurfacing.
Part of the deeper machinery of the County Place.
And more importantly—they connect to each other.
- Trees go to war when a lie goes too deep.
- Killing the Witch scars the land she welded herself to.
- The Sky Watchers send auditors to cleanse what humans fear to face.