My writing goal is to use more descriptive words.
The woods were eerily quiet. Not a sound could be heard. Not a bird chirped in the silence. Then footsteps. The thud of boots on the moss covered floor, and the faint sound of humming. The trees seemed to part for whatever it was. All having a fear for it that no one could extract. The thing came into view, but it wasn’t a thing a all. It was wood. It was alive, but somehow it… wasn’t. It stood there staring blankly at the trees. It moved toward one, then moved no more.