Horror Story

[Gildarts]

Darkness had fallen over the realm. Within it, a group of travelers, all pulled from the same world, no, the same room of the world that would now only be known now as their long lost home, Earth.

Only after the the snarl of the monsters and the fall of one of their own, did they realize finally, that they would never see nor feel the comfort of their homes again. For once the truth became all too real, and the group comprised of ten people found themselves wondering, hoping, and praying at least to be saved from the darkness of the night. As if the fear of the unknown, and the deep encroaching feeling that this simple trepidation brings is one even more tremendous that of the very monsters dwelling within it. The evil monsters that had already slain one. The creatures that would not hesitate to kill again.

It was this night, in this place, that fear they had never known before, could be seen in their eyes. It was the fear of prey, prey that knew it was being hunted, and knew upon the skill of the slaughterer, that mere chance would not save them. They also knew that if they were not swift enough to evade, there would be a much more horrible fate to come than sudden death. There would be no safe return, there would be no more common conversation. Only screams and survival.

[Gildarts]

A blood curdling shriek erupted through the decompressing silence. It was female, and told of the most horrific dangers. There was no time to wonder why their eyes suddenly saw a sheet of black, why their breath could be seen before their noses, and why oh why weren’t they in that safe little room waiting for the professor to come in and start telling them how many pages they had to write to even just pass the semester.

Alive and in their ears, the shrill howl stretched far and wide over this new land, as though running from the very fear that had spawned it. The tune tore through the many gnarled and twisted trees that blocked its path and journeyed far beyond where their eyes could see. The scream carried straight into the ears of the monsters of the night.

Running, the thump of the soles of her tennis shoes was traveling at the same beat of her heart - and that was saying something. The mud of the moors squished and splashed below her feet, and mucked up with the flare of her jeans just past her ankles. Twigs broke under the pressure of her body, snap, snap! and echoed to the back of her mind. The adrenaline had made everything clear, and animate, but it had also numbed the feeling out of her jellied state. Somehow she held it together, as the thorns hung off of bushes like claws which were just long enough to scratch her and in her instinct of life or death she could not feel anything, nor the warm trickle of blood that came from these open gashes on her biceps.

Creeaaak... Crack! The girl with long black hair could not help but to feel the snapping of branches sounded much more like the breaking of bones. Brown eyes darted through the part of her wavy black hair, now dripping with sweat and moisture from the foggy climate, as well as broken pieces of twigs and fragments of leaves. The girl was no older than twenty, yet the fear that consumed her thoughts made her feel like an old man whose time was soon to be up. Her chin tossed over her shoulder, side to side, side to side, scanning for any bit of information about where she was.

It was just a dream, surely it had to be. This didn’t happen to normal people, right? It was... Just a dream. Damn it, then what was that ... creature you saw back there? Some figment of your imagination? What is what you’re standing in now, some very graphic hallucination? Sure you’d prefer this all to be some nightmare, or a joke, but you know the truth. You knew from when your eyes closed. You felt the shift of time, the switch of your mind, you felt the change of the world around you. This is no longer earth, and that creature... That creature you’re running from. It is entirely real.

The girl’s lips drew downward in a considerate expression, not that anyone could see, for filling her sight was a swampy set of fog glazed in moonlight, and around her were more of all the short, twisted trees she had just dodged. Breathing became easier. She did not feel impending doom just yet. So she took the time to clear her mind, but in order to fully overcome the fear, she needed to define it. 


This proved to be quite easy. She had only caught a glimpse, but it was enough to last a lifetime, preserved in the deeply rooted instinct of her ancestors, the horribly lucid image was now ingrained in the backs of her eyelids. A black shape, dark and terrible form with powerful muscles and untamed fur, it had four long and beastly arms and a short whipping tail. It was doglike, but she had never seen a dog look or act like that. Attached to the arms were paws, and on those paws, oh such terrible claws. They had dug into the earth and flung soil as it tore through the night. Its eyes were on someone else though, that was the reason she had gotten away. It could not stop its momentum fast enough, and instead settled its mind on first getting the one it was chasing, and coming back to trail the scent of its next prey.

The scream. The girl remembered the scream as though it were live and it chilled her blood once more. It was one she could not forget, frozen by fear, that she had been forced to watch. Watch as a set of huge jaws frothing with white spray made contact into ruby red flesh, flesh she knew the name of. Clothed in a few nice-looking garments, and attached to a pair of heelless sandals. And now gushing from that image were deep red splotches of blood, parting of the creature’s maw was a river of it. It stuck to the carnivorous creature’s lips, molding in clumps with stands of its fur, and dying the muzzle of the fuzzy creature the color of wine.

Her body had jump-started itself,   forget she was currently standing safely behind a knotty tree. She forgot she was not on the scene again, watching someone get murdered by something she could not explain. The college student had forgotten everything but the beastly look in that thing’s eyes at it turned its head to pause from the feeding, to look up at the girl. There was a rush of fear, and it struck her more directly than lasers, as the gaze of the animal now fell on her. What had happened next fell into a blur. A blur only measured by the pounding of steps she barely remembered touching the ground, and the sporadic beat of her own bursting heart. The girl’s entire body had been fueled by the imagine that flashed before her eyes. It was the gaze of the creature, it was almost sentient for a murderous monster, it had snarled as though she had disturbed its meal, and its eyes like yellow diamonds had shredded her hope like razors. She had gasped, and finally after putting together the dog’s face again, the gray fur spewing from its black ears, and the wrinkles of its angry snout had curled into one that would kill again. It was ravenous, wild, and she got the vague sense that it had lost it’s humanity. Wherever it was, wherever she was, of one thing she was certain, that thing had been a werewolf.

Back in the present, she found she had caught her breath, though it was hard for her to accept why she hadn’t already become the next one on the creature’s tongue. No. She told herself, I have a family, I have a future, I have enough to live for and enough to hope for, I will get out of this... Whatever this is... I will get out alive.

Her brown eyes scanned the scene, she had been resting against the bark of a nearby tree. Leaning on it had helped the sway of dizziness that started in her mind and weighed with warped gravity along her appendages. Heavy legs now found the strength to stand, she felt her adrenaline wear off, and that herculean power she felt fueling her muscles had now turned equally into the simple demise of fatigue. I must keep going, the girl straightened her gaze, her posture, but couldn’t help her thoughts from touching back on what had been so sweet of moments just before.

Christmas vacation had been wonderful, she had seen all her family, and was happy to be home at mom’s house with her nieces, nephews, grandparents, aunts, and two brothers. Uncle Ted had died that year of a heart attack and his place at the table would be missed. Other than that, there was the opening and exchanging of presents, they had set the tree and mom had made a fine Christmas feast with honey-glazed ham. There were cookies, a colorful selection of pies, and of course hot chocolate and wine glasses clinking on into the night. New Years had been even better, the family had gone and gotten Chinese take out, and before they watched the ball drop in New York, they had gone ice skating on the local pond. The girl who remembered this had not accompanied them or the kids, since she had a fractured femur two years before, and was still recovering from it. Instead she had stayed at the house with the grandparents and enjoyed the quiet until it was time to welcomed the kids home with hot cocoa to heat up the cold patches of red that had smudged their noses.

Then it had been time to leave her holiday behind, so she waved goodbye at the airport to her parents and two older brothers, and had a smooth flight back through the clouds of Chicago. When she had landed, her boyfriend greeted her. She hadn’t known him long, however they had exchanged notes from their psychology class the semester before, and it was enough to say that there would be less sharing of notes and more sharing of kisses. She embraced him as she got off the plane, and past the terminal. Once they returned to her dorm they hung out and enjoyed the silence, as well as laughed at the ugly sweater he had gotten from his Nana this Christmas. They held hands and settled in for the night to watch Die Hard and fell asleep on the couch. Just outside the glass of a window, clumps of snow had begun to accumulate on the sill.

The morning that her class started, he had seen her off, walked her to her classroom and held a lasting look in each of their eyes before smooching, and a grin catching on each of their lips. She had walked in her classroom alone and there were only ten people there, a bit small for a college class, but this was a small university. Last semester her psychology class had had twenty-five people in it, including her boyfriend. Though, she accounted for the fact that she was early, the professor wasn’t even in sight. A soft sigh came from her lips and she took a seat nearest to Claire, who wore a smile brighter than summer, and though there was a small dusting of snow on the ground last night, there was no trace of it this morning. Claire had manicured toenails that were shimmering through the straps of her heelless sandals. Over her shoulders was a pink jacket, a white tank top, and around her hips, a cute floral skirt.

Claire was friendly, but a little preppy, and had already started to clear off her desk to take notes on a lesson that hadn’t even started yet. The girl who was remembering this blinked and caught sight of the other familiar faces and one new one that she had not recognized from the previous semester. Nine in total. Hm.

After waiting so long, a rowdier boy, Johnson, started complaining loudly, “Hey, where’s this teacher at?” of course this was college, most of the class would be thankful that the professor didn’t show up and was late, since it generally meant less work for them tonight. Still, he had a point, thirty minutes late was bad, even if it meant there was less to be done. Worse still, the students could be held that extra time in order to get the course syllabus completely cleared. A couple grumbles and groans could be heard...

She had come to a clearing, the fog had dissipated, just enough for her to see beyond it. There was a fire, a shimmering flame, or it was her eyes that deceived her. She sprinted and sprung with effort on every step as a few human shapes could be seen against the light source. “Thank god, I’m safe!” she breathed as she ran. Several of the group had turned to meet her, it was everyone from class, save Claire.

Their faces wore the horror she too had seen. “Emily, you’re okay?” My friend Trisha asked, “Have you seen Claire? We thought it was her screaming but we couldn’t be sure...” she gulped and her eyes evaded mine, because they had thought it was me screaming.

Their pale faces danced in the warm flame of light, the color had drained from even Trisha’s blushed cheeks, and in that instant, Emily knew that the fear had been mutual. Emily felt Trisha’s eyes on her, scanning over every open wound. Her eyes fell over her Emily’s shoulders and stayed on the white t-shirt she had been wearing, it was now smeared with blood and smudged with mud. Emily’s jeans had a few small holes torn in them, and her shoes had been covered in black soil from this swampy place. Had it not been from this terrible ordeal, she would’ve looked nice on her first day back from break, a good start for their second semester. It was hard to believe what they were all experiencing now. Even though she had seen it with her own eyes, it was hard to believe it was real.

 Em assured her friend she was fine, although still rattled from what she had seen. Sure, she had been nicked a few times in the arm, but overpowering the wounds that had dried, was the powerful sense of fear that was still fresh.

“But what about Claire?” Johnson’s deep voice asked.

It took Em a moment to put the pieces of the puzzle in her mind back together. The girl gulped and spoke with her voice still shaking, below her eyes large shadows drawn by the fire, and an expression contorted with pain, wincing as though she were watching her die again and again. Her voice broke as the words forced themselves out of her dry lips, “Claire’s..... Dead.”

[Gildarts]

While the group of eight had known on some level, the news hadn’t really sunk in. Death? What even was that? A word, a philosophy of lack of life. An incomprehensible end. What Em could see of their faces in the dim mist, were expressions, gaunt with shock and fatigue while their worried brows were sleek with fear-borne sweat.

“Dead?” Johnson whimpered before his sorrow turned to red-hot, misled anger in all its glory, his voice shouted as it fought against devastation, “DEAD?! HOW COULD YOU LET HER DIE OUT THERE? YOU WEREN’T JUST CLASSMATES, YOU WERE FRIENDS! YOU WERE-”

He’d started shaking Em violently by the shoulders and she’d become no more than a glorified bobblehead, his grip was tight on her upper arms until Mitchel had pulled him off of her, “Leave her alone.” Johnson and Claire had been a rumored thing. He was on the football team with a scholarship and she had been aiming for valedictorian.

“It… I saw a… And it… Ate her.” Em stuttered, still dizzy after her shake, as her voice drooped and her eyes fell away into the far off distance of her own haunted memories. Dark images kept flashing of incomplete shadows, claws, jaws, the intense spark of those venomous and glowing eyes. Pieces to an image that her mind couldn’t bear to put all together. But she knew the whole picture, it would take longer than a lifetime to forget the relentless, unrepentant horror.

“It? So like a bear or something? Come on Emily, what did you see?” Mitchel urged her gently.

“Y-you wouldn’t believe me if I told you, Hell, I barely even believe my own eyes…” She continued to look away from her classmates, wondering how this terror had even happened. Wondering who she was, to have run from it and feeling the helplessness cold in her veins. The dread, the shame, the mourning. Survivor’s guilt. She had never known it, but it was enough to churn her stomach and create a terrible state of true self-loathing. She had to snap out of this grotesque mess.

“What was it Em, say it,” Mitch ushered as the stir of the eight others grew unsettled and more fearful than before.

“I-I really don’t…” Emily looked up at them however, and knew that it would dishonor Claire’s name if she didn’t speak exactly what she’d seen. She’d had been enough self-pity, for a moment’s emotion could last a lifetime. Em cleared her voice and spoke concisely, “It was a werewolf.”

“Those don’t exist,” Alex was quick to snap.

“Does the blood on my shirt lie? Because it isn’t mine!” Emily’s voice cracked with the soft sizzling of sorrow. “I ran because there was nothing else I could do, the blow was one that would have ended her quickly.”

“Maybe you were… Maybe you didn’t see it right,” Mitch offered, “Maybe it was just a really big wolf and…”

“It isn’t shock and it wasn’t a wolf, my father taught me how to hunt, I know different species of wolves, coyotes from bears, the truth in the monster that I just saw,” Em’s voice had hardened with determination, “But we need to be strong, because we aren’t safe anymore, we don’t know where we are, and we need to focus because we don’t want the same thing that killed her to find us too. Let’s all get through this. Now, pull out your phones and see if any one of you have service, next, does anyone have anything that could be used as a weapon or tool, even just a pencil? Because, guys, we aren’t in Kansas anymore.”

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.” Johnson fell to the ground, quaking in his Adidas shoes and while Emily didn’t notice any direct tears pouring from his eyes, just an overture of panic that had him rocking forward and backward. “This isn’t real, this can’t be real, this isn’t real…”

"This has got to be a joke, right? Just one big prank?" Trisha voiced and then announced louder, "Okay, you can show us the cameras, it isn't funny."

"It isn't a joke, do you see any cameras?" Alex extended his hand, "Plus, this isn't a set, I've worked in theatrics for years, the moss growing on that tree is real, there's even dew on it. The plants you smell, everything is real, and before you say we were relocated to this shitshow in the middle of the woods, do you even remember blacking out? This would be too elaborate for the technology we have today, it's twenty ten, not twenty seventy five. We have a ways to go before this could even be plausible for entertainment. No, you may want to hang onto that denial, but I'm pretty sure that won't keep us alive. If what Emily said is right, there's a monster. Or more than one, and it'll slowly pick us off if we don't proceed with caution. Remember every horror movie you've ever watched, and don't do anything that would cause you to breathe your last. Mistakes aren't an option. Not now, not anymore."

Things were getting real.


Other than Johnson, everyone else continued to do as she asked, searched their bodies for anything at all. If this was real, they probably realized there was little chance of survival, even if it wasn’t real, they were stranded in this dark abysmal land and mommy and daddy weren’t coming to save them. No one knew where they were. They were lost and alone, no roads in sight to follow home, no rivers to remind them that life was still churning and possible. Nothing but darkness and absent silence devoid of landmarks and the air chilled with fear and the ghost of death. Heartbeats filled their ears and a pale blue glow reflected on the shiny sheen of their faces. Conclusive answers would soon find them, whether they liked it or not.

“No service,” Mitch said.

“Me either,” Alex whispered.

“Damn,” Trisha agreed and universal nods bobbed in the dim light.

At that point, Emily took a headcount. Who was left? Who had arrived with them, even if they didn’t know where they were? To Emily’s left there was Mitchel, Johnson, Trisha, and Jamal, on the far side of the makeshift five inch fire they’d put together on rather soggy wood were the other four, Kat, Alex, Merrel, and Linny. The fire wouldn’t last much longer, if you listened closely, you could hear the sizzle and bubbling of the fire hissing against water, creating small wisps of cloudy steam that merely mixed with the same fog that surrounded them.

Not that Emily intended on sticking around with that thing probably hot on her scent and lapping its tongue around its muzzle, eager for seconds on that tasty meal it had feasted on. Appetizers only egged more food, and here they all were, the main course. If they stuck together, stuck their heads together, maybe they could all pull through this.

“Does anyone have anything that could be used as a tool?” Mitch reiterated.

They had ‘arrived’ here with next to nothing. They patted their pockets, but Emily sized everyone up and knew this was going to be a tough night. “Who lit the fire?” she inquired, the importance was more than she could let on.

“Alex did,” Mitch confirmed and she nodded in response.

“How?” Em turned to him.

“My lighter,” he held it out. While he had done a shit job with the fire, he had done something, and it was nearly impossible to light wet wood on fire without a blowtorch or gasoline. Given the circumstances, he’d done well.

“I have a pencil,” Trisha held it out triumphantly as she fished in her purse for anything else that could be of use.

“Does anyone have any food on them?” Emily, it seemed, would be the head of their survival operation. Not of choice, but while she’d witnessed the monster with her own eyes, she was the only one who knew how very literal the graveness of the situation was.

“Chocolate bar,” Trisha smiled embarrassment filling her flushed cheeks.

“Half a pack of gum,” Jamal turned out his pockets.

Mitch spoke up, “Johnson has a Clif Bar.” His friend was still panicking on the ground and looking far too closely at the blood on Emily’s shirt.

She rolled her eyes and walked over to him. He didn’t acknowledge her existence, “Listen, I know she was your girlfriend but you need to pull yourself out of this if you want to live, you understand?” But her words fell on deaf ears, so she aimed for his cheek and slapped him with the palm of her hand.

Johnson jolted himself out of it, narrowed his eyes and nearly snarled as he grabbed her wrist which was still completing its momentum. Then he released, realizing she’d done him a favor. “Thanks,” he muttered and while he remained on the ground, he was much more interested in surviving this with his life.

Em strolled away from him quickly, getting back to seeing how things would go. Her eyes grazed each and every one of them, “Alex, take off your belt, it can be used as a whip, or something.” Jamal who was also wearing a belt, did the same. “Girls, if you find any rocks, fill your purses with them and if you don’t feel comfortable swinging it at whatever might come at you, give them to one of the guys… If there are even any rocks around in this friggin’ wasteland.”

Emily looked around, her haste was mostly disguised by the after effects of fear, however, it still showed as she paced ten feet past the fire, and and twenty feet back across. Mostly plain trees, grim looking, gray and pale. It was time to start breaking branches.

“We can’t stay here, it’s far too close to where it...” she warned the others. Vivid flashes of the beast’s snarls invaded her mind and she was reminded of the feeling of hot blood splattering her shirt. Live blood. It had a name, once. Claire. She couldn’t bear to look down at her white shirt turned crimson. She was sure there was a little bit of splatter on her face too. Emily dabbed her sleeve with some saliva and tried to rub off the places where she’d felt the blood hardening. Well, she didn’t have a compact on her, so she had to guess about where the deep crimson droplets were. She’d missed a few to say the least, across her cheek and chin.

Self defense was a priority in this hellhole where staying alive would be a mixture of chance, luck, fate, and the ability to run. Mostly, their lives would rely on their ability to run.

[Gildarts]

Emily inhaled the last sizzling ounces of smoke, offered by their doomed fire made from wet wood. Her eyes fell up and down everyone, sizing them up, speculating on their survival, but the truth was, there was no way to even guess what was out there, beyond these woods. They could find a safe house the second they got moving and be fine. The odds of that however, were slimmer than none.


This was a wasteland, looked like it was just out of a horror movie, dark, dismal, depressing, dank-smelling, deathly. She didn’t know why all “d” adjectives came to mind, but each one seemed to fit better than the last. Now her thoughts streamed the most important information school could never give her, how to live. “Listen, we have to keep going, that thing must have an extraordinary sense of smell.” No amount of deodorant could keep it off their tails for long. No amount of anything if it came back for seconds.

Slowly, one by one, the students gathered in a train, most had a stick to use as a bat and most of the girls followed closely behind a stick-wielding guy. Single-file, it continued, their trek into the unknown, step by step, attempting to make sense of the impossible. Twigs crunching under toe like the breaking of bones. The air stagnant with no breeze, making time feel eternal, when mere minutes had passed.

Unsurprisingly, Emily took the lead, though she didn’t know where she was going any better than Trisha at the back of the line, but she didn’t trust her life to the amateurs behind her either. “Make sure everyone keeps up, this fog is murky and it could get really thick.” Emily looked over her shoulder as she passed on the message. Everyone was there, sweaty, dirty, eyes bulging with nerves but they were alive.

The haunting fog reminded her of untold phantoms lurking from the corners of shadows, it was alive too, pulsating as it sucked in their energy like an omnipresent force, watching as swamps usually seem to do. Watchful, yet without eyes.

The slop of mud glued stickier with every sinking step of their tennis shoes, plunging deeper into the stinking decay, every step shackled them like anchors as they tried to trudge forward. The time was heeding their progress but at this point it didn’t seem like whatever it was that had killed Claire was following them, maybe they were safe, and with that idea, came a much needed relief of the burden that was fighting for their lives. The taste of humid mist fell on Em’s tongue as her nose sniffed it all in. The process was slow, every step she took, she made sure to scan her surroundings. Pale, leafless trees grew all around her, drowning in mud just as her ankles were; in the growing darkness, their branches unfurled into the darkling twilight and appeared as a cross of pirates’ hooks, forgotten animal bones, and the sithe of the Grim Reaper himself.

The eeriness was daunting, Emily’s eyes widened and she realized there was silence. What she should have heard was breathing and groans about how the murk they were venturing through was going to give them gangrene. Shit! she cursed under her breath as she whipped around, what she found wasn’t a surprise to her.

An embankment of fog. Pure and pearly white, seemingly harmless, if you didn’t lose yourself in it. The others, though,shit.

“Mitch? Alex?” Em called to them, she heard only an echo of her voice dissipating in the twilight, engulfed in the white smaug, and then a raven’s grim call. The fact that no one was within even earshot was the worst news yet. They could’ve all been sucked down by the swamp, or taken like the garbage disposal monster in Star Wars. Emily hastened her step, but it would do no good for her to get panicked, nothing good ever came of impulse when it came to survival. She couldn’t keep calling out to her group, not if it would call attention to her.

Emily could feel them. The predators, the carnivorous eyes of those monsters she couldn’t see, behind the ever-shifting wall of white, she felt them all on her beating heart. The flood of red-hot blood in her veins pounding away faster and faster as the fear accelerated within her. She was the prey, and like a scared rabbit, she froze.

Meanwhile…

“Mitch? Mitch? Em?” Alex’s call was met with unnerving silence. “Shit,” Alex said under his breath as he tried to remember the order they’d lined up in. Em first, then Mitch, then Linny, then himself, and the others were behind him. Slowly Linny’s pace had increased, her shoulders fading as though they’d gotten further and further away, he couldn’t quite pinpoint the exact time he’d lost clear sight of her. He had thought the front of the pack would be more safe, as he’d be able to see what was coming at him and prepare, however, it was evident no part of this pack of barely armed college kids were all that threatening to anything that came at them. The only thing they had actually going for them was power in their numbers and they’d just lost it. Everyone had somehow dispersed. Yet they had been right behind him. Right in front of him. Linny’s shoulders, her pastel pink shirt and her soggy swamp-water stained jeans.

The swamp below him was making belching, gurgling noises, alive and craving like a hungry stomach, eager to suck down food faster than it could be digested. Slowly, Alex started to sink and like anyone would, he hastened his pace, sensing the danger and his movements fueled by fear. It seemed rational to run, there was no way to fight a fucking swamp. The mud was thicker, denser, the perfect trapdoor for any creature who depended on feet for transport. “Almighty” humans included. Flesh was food, and whatever monster, he doubted it would discriminate if it was carnivorous, meat was all only a matter of shape and bone.

He jumpstarted his body into a tumbling run, the suction from the mud stuck to both his feet, and Splat! his face fell plunging into the very thing he was running from. The swamp itself, and the very mud he had tread on.

Meanwhile…

“Like, is anyone there?” Trisha called out, if there had been any live crickets, now would’ve been the cue for the chirping to begin.

A swampland is the decomposing skeletal carcass of a forest that was once in bloom, a flower with all its petals plucked and now its stem was withering to death, leaving the seeds to starve until next spring. It was ominous, and you could feel the shift, the lack of thriving life and the suffering struggle of the unexplained parasitic life, sucking up the last of what was left and spitting back up the undigested bone.

There was something about this place, it reminded her vaguely of a graveyard in the same sense. Or rather, a nursing home, a place where people and creatures, came to die. Or dared to cross, if they thought they were worthy enough. Now was the true test.

Trisha’s soggy socks squished with every muddy step, causing her to cringe every time she felt like it. Her eyes swept the fog, she was alone, the fog was suffocating, swamping over her and coating her mind with the unknown fears. Somehow, she’d lost those who were in the lead, but she’d got stuck as the caboose of their people train. As she frequently Tweeted from her phone: Shit happens.

In her pocket she felt its familiarity and pulled it out, reaching for comfort and solace. Her thumbs tapped the keys while the glow illuminated her face with a message saying:

No Service.

Read in the upper left-hand corner of the screen and affirming the truth were the empty bars. She really was alone. Her blue eyes sought answers in all directions, the fog was everywhere, there wasn’t even a tree around and it was getting dark.

“Helloo?” her voice rang while she wiped the stray blonde hairs itching her face back behind her ear and out of sight. “Ugh, it smells disgusting, I couldn’t have been lost on some deserted island or something?”

No, instead she was helpless, clueless, and entirely alone. The most terrifying mixture imaginable. Trisha didn’t even know where to begin. Tears started flooding down her face as she walked forward, she could’ve been walking to her death, off a plank, or a cliff. The unknown terrors were real in her mind, cultivated by fear.  She knew it wasn’t a joke or prank now, she knew in her heart of hearts, her fear was too real, too tangible, too consuming. This could very well be the end. And so far, just what had she even been living for?

[Gildarts]

Existentialist questions were the least of her worries, or were they, if one’s last thoughts defined them the most? Perhaps it was just a pragmatic college-tuned habit. Perhaps not. She remembered her house, high on the hill, full of rooms full of tiny things, mementos of distant memories where her and her parents had gone to places like Florida, Hawaii, the Bahamas, on extravagant vacations, but they’d never bonded. There was no love in their family, it was almost like a business relationship between her two parents, and for their work and colleagues and bosses, it looked better with a little baby in the picture. That was her. Trisha, over there in the corner of the frame, plastered on her face was a fake smile while her model-sculpted parents posed for the shot.

Trisha was the child in the corner. She always had been, even in school. Mother had always said if she didn’t get all A’s, her college would never be paid for. Her job as the corner child was to keep up appearances. If there was aven an ounce of fat on her stomach, her mother would personally escort her to the gym, or take her to her personal trainer. Success, to them, had meant everything. Ever since middle school her struggle was genuine and her efforts paid off, at the sacrifice of a childhood and fundamental happiness. The definition of her life had shifted. Was she serving her purpose and being successful? Or was there more to life? More to that girl in the picture? More to what a smile meant?

There was a beautiful quote that she remembered hearing once, so beautiful, that though she demanded it come to mind, it would not be summoned. Tch. What good was her mind if she could not remember a fragment of beauty to mourn in this tragedy? Death would soon come, and perhaps she would be reminded when the reaper sliced away..

The tears streaked along the peach colored blush she’d patted on her cheeks just prior to stepping in the door of the professor’s classroom. Today had started out bright and hopeful, the first day back from winter break, an escape that hadn’t been much of one but instead, it was in ruin and so was her dripping mascara.

Everything smelled pungent and gross, there wasn’t one word that she could think of to describe the exact flavor, other than maybe vomit or stomach acid. It had made her already tearing eyes burn and sting. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t right, no, there was nothing right in this world and path which they’d dared to cross was now seeking revenge.

She exhaled a breath, realigning her thoughts to focus on what could be changed. What she saw was a canvas of pure white. When she looked down at her feet, they squished ankle-deep into a dark muddy sponge. This could be one of the greatest challenges she ever faced.

Something told her, something in her gut, that word “intuition” became tangible. Her survival instincts shivered in her body, rattling like a bell and chiming fight or flight. It was the swamp, of that, she was sure. The swamp itself was alive, it was going to eat her alive, not to mention the others. It made her feel alone, time had surely stilled the moment it forgot about her. It was time she move on, her phone would never get service, she’d never call for help, and she’d never go home again, somehow, it didn’t seem possible that her whole world could end in just a split second.

But it had, this was a world of monsters, after all.

Meanwhile...

“The swamp! It’s gonna eat us! Run!” Merrel shouted at Alex, who was now within sight.

Alex was facedown in the damp dirt as though having a mud bath treatment for his skin, though it was quite serious, for in an instant, he came up gasping for air. All his effort passed into his muscles, driven by fear and adrenaline as he attempted to claw his way out while the swamp’s ground became more liquidy, and like quicksand, it began to start swallowing. Rocks and trees were the first victims, a loud gurgling noise erupted as though from its belly, and the swamp itself began sucking everything around Alex and Merrel in.

Alex looked over his shoulder and was wasted no time as he saw the smaller rocks, shrubs, and leafless trees rolling in behind him like a landslide. Kicking up his feet, he jumped to a stand, splattering mud all behind him from the speedy lift in his tracks, much like a car’s wheels as it revved up trying to get out of a muddy ditch. The spray was one foot after another. He lifted his feet with haste and the mud tossed up from his heels. Fear coursed through his bones, and his heart had a tough time keeping up.

As another tree passed him and he dodged it on this terrifying treadmill-like trap, he thought even the trees aren’t safe and wondered if he would ever be able to outrun his fate. Merrel was ahead of him, running just as he was. A huge boulder was pulled toward him with the mud.

WHAM!

No, not the band, the rock’s flat face nearly steamrolled Merrel nearly into the ground and it was en-route for Alex as well. He had had enough time to take a few steps to the left and dodge it, but now, he was worried about his unconscious friend, he’d have to grab his arm, grab any part of him that he could manage before the gurgling stomach ate him alive.

“Merrel! Come on! Wake up!” Alex tried calling his name out, as though that would rouse him more than the great moving rock had.

The boulder was slowly gaining and Alex had a chance to extend his hand, “Grab on!” he said, hoping Merrel would come to life and fight for the both of them. But it was an uphill battle. It was destined that someone fall today. Alex had grabbed his friend’s arm and dug his feet into the moving sludge below him, using his weight and the traction he was able to pull Merrel out of the rock’s way before it was swallowed into the gaping swirl of destruction.

“Come… On! Wake up, we can both get through this,” Alex was slowed down by a guy who was double his weight and was trying to carry him off the side of his shoulder. He shook him off to the side, though with a firm grip so as not to see him fall into the swamp’s vacuuming mouth.

“Tch.. What happened?” Merrel asked as his head bobbled.

“You were hit in the face with a huge boulder, it nearly buried you alive, but come on, I’m glad you’re awake, now we can get through th-” Alex’s expression turned grim as Merrel began to shake his head from side to side.

“No, this one’s gonna be all on you buddy,” Merrel was wincing, they were ten feet from the turbulent whirlpool of debris and siphoning mud, “It completely pumbled my leg, I’m a gonner.”

“Don’t be like that, we can do this, together!” Alex growled and feeling Merrel’s pull backward, dug his feet in again and started to drag the guy forward, aiming to be like Santa, toting all his weight on one shoulder.

“Alex, man, there’s no way I’m crawling out of this with only one of my legs, I’m weighing you down. This is over for me, I can’t make it. You need to go.” Merrel shoved Alex off of him and in a blink was a few yards behind him.

Alex narrowed his eyes and changed directions, in a world where anything could happen, that meant truly anything, that meant the impossible.

[Gildarts]

This was it. Hanging off of a swampy version of Niagra fucking falls. Would this be his end? Oh, sorry, let me paint the picture for ya.

Alex’s arm’s muscles had nearly split, Come on, I’ve benched double this and you know it! he coached himself through the agony that was splitting down his side. One arm was hanging onto Merrel, who’s and was slippery from caked on mud and obviously both of their sweat, shared from the exhaustion from the running.

A mammoth tree, about the size of a Redwood Sequoia had fallen over the giant gap like the savoir Golden Gate bridge in Alex’s hometown San Francisco. Somehow he’d managed to grab a limb and well, it was going to the swamp’s swirling core anyway. It was amazing because it was working. The swamp’s whirlpool wasn’t big enough to swallow the tree whole, which just meant they had a matter of time to use it as a bridge and attempt to get to safety.

“Merrel, keep hanging on, don’t you ever give up on me like that again man, we can use this tree and wait out this feeding frenzy, I need you to try to pull yourself up, your arms aren’t broken and I know you can do it, I’ll help with what I can with this one arm, but you’re kind of slipping, and my other arm is around the tree, holding onto us both, we can do this, you just have to trust me!” Alex called down to him.

What a sight it was. His friend’s hand in his, his life, in the balance, and the hurricane of sludge below, pulling them in, with the heavy, suctioning breeze. Merrel was holding on, the effort and strain pulling down on them with the gravity, however to Alex’s relief, Merrel was fighting too, he hadn’t given up his will to live.

“Come on man, we got this,” Alex said through the concealment of a wince, the bark of the Sequoia tree was grating into his flesh, especially with the added force. But the agony was worth it. To save his friend. To save their lives. To somehow, someway get out of this hellish mess. A swamp doesn’t just come alive and eat people, but apparently, this one did.

After a few moments, their muscles went into overdrive, Alex was sure his arms were going to fall off as he lifted Merrel, who now had his shoulder over the tree and was hoisting himself up like a cowboy. They sighed an expressive exhale of freedom, Alex blinked away the tears of pain that came, his right arm had likely torn a ligament or whatever, and Merrel’s leg was still in bad shape.

“It can’t do this forever,” Alex reassured his friend, “It’ll pass,” he was wincing between words, and Merrel caught his concealments. “But we have to get off of this tree and away from the mouth of this thing, physics class taught me that nothing can take this force forever, it’ll snap at the middle, where we are now once the wood gets too weak.”

“You’re hurt,” Merrel frowned, guilt-ridden across his mud-splattered face. It appeared he’d doubled the amount of freckles he had, which made Alex smile through the pain.

“One hundred thousand percent worth it, plus, you’ve got like double the freckles now, look at all that mud!” Alex chuckled, distractions from hopelessness however, never lasted long. He felt that in the pit of his stomach and started edging himself along, feeling the chafe and stab of splintering bark along his pants and gritting into his thighs and he moved down the long tree’s stump.

“Yeah? Well you look much better with a giant muddy mole for a face, you ass,” Merrel reposted with a sarcasm-laden tone, and followed Alex’s determined lead, wincing as his left shin was picked up and edged forward, balancing like a bull-rider in a rodeo, and especially careful not to look down at his fate that would have been.

They were almost there, after dodging a few branches and sharp sparks of wood, Alex, who lead, was just a few feet from the stump when…

“AHHH! Somebody help me!”

It wasn’t Merrel, it was a girl’s voice, Alex looked over his shoulder, his neck whipping from the speed as his eyes revolved back, to face his front. That was when his eyes fixed on her. It was Linny! She was on course for the very monster they’d narrowly avoided, she was, however, swimming in mud, it was up to her torso and though she was fighting it, she was losing. The consistency of the mud did look much more goopy and liquidy, less thick now, than when Alex and Merrel had been running in it.

Ugh, this is impossible, he grumbled to himself, but it was likely the colossal tree would hold up, and Linny was coming at them fast. She was nearly drowning in the mud, it had completely submerged her face at some points. Between her rapid breaths and struggle, she had managed to scream, “ANYBODY, PLEASE!”

She’d have been sobbing if she had enough time, but this was muddy muck that she was swimming in, and if you’ve ever tried to swim against a current, you know how tiring it can be on the muscles. Linny was drowning in her own fatigue.

“LINNY! We hear you!! Raise your arms, we’ll try and grab you, but you’re moving fast, there’s a giant tree, if you can, grab the roots of its stump and we can pull you up!” Alex yelled and then turned over his shoulder, “Merrel, be ready for her if she misses, it’s up to us to catch her.”

“You don’t think she’ll be able to grab on?” Merrel questioned.

“If you’ve ever been caught downstream in a river, everything’s slippery and everything is against you. It’s a nearly impossible chance, like I said, it’s up to us.” Alex nodded and then got an idea.

The muddy waters had increased their pace, flooding as fast as a river and as fluid as one too, there would be a slim chance of them being able to pull her in. At least, from here. Alex winced as he grappled down the dense roots of the stump, they were long and thick and firm and he was about to take the plunge. His eyes had found him a spot wedged in between two very strong looking roots, a perfect spot not to be swept away and the perfect place to catch Linny before she fell in. He could do this, it was going to be tight, but he knew he could.

“LINNY, we’re over here, try to get close to my voice!” Alex shouted as he stepped into the gushing mud and felt the immediate chill of the waters, pulsing and raging against his skin, bashing him against the roots that were getting more and more slippery with every moment he stood in between them. He gulped, he could no longer see Linny from this vantage point, had he missed her already?

“There she is! She’s coming, really fast. It looks like she conked her head on something, cause she isn’t moving at all. Get ready to grab her!” Merrel said as he edged forward, ready to be a part of the rescue.

In flashes between waves, Alex saw her. She blended in so well with the chocolate and coal covered mud, but there she was, like a smooth, ocean-lapped rock, he could see her face and her arm sticking out and headed for him. Alex gulped as he felt the pain in his right arm and opted to use his left in that case.

“LINNY!!! We’re here!!!” he shouted over the rushing sounds force and pressure whirling together. She grew closer, floating amid the mud as he head bobbed up and down with the ever inconsistent speeds. “LINNY! WAKE UP!”

Alex’s voice was desperate, he was begging her to come to life, but her ears were likely submerged and full of swampwater. Shit, shit, SHIT! He felt helpless, but a smaller log came around and bumped her closer to him, her lagging arm was just within his arm’s reach! He went for it, leaping nearly over his rooted brace and his grasp surrounded her slimy hand, holding onto her with all his might.

“Linny!” His hand was in hers and he had begun yanking her forward using the bone of her wrist as a good place with hard bone that could handle a good grip, though she might have bruises there in the morning.

“Wake up!” Now, it was him against the waves, Alex was feeling the flood of swamp over his shoulders and he winced as his right one wrenched with pain. The swamp was alive, fighting him, draining him, as though he was between the swamp and its dinner.

“No, I won’t let you take her!” he told himself as he released his hand on the root and used both hands on her wrist, he was pulling with all his energy and the flooding whirlpool was still winning. He felt the tread of his shoe slip and the massive root that was keeping him firm hit him in the diaphragm. Alex went under the surface, sludge surrounded him in immense streams and everything clung to the cage of rooted webbing from the tree, he held onto the girl’s wrist with his good arm and his lungs were burning, screaming for air. He denied them. Air meant letting her go.

Come on, just a little further, she’s depending on me. His shoes seemed to find a stable foothold and he pushed upward, breaking through the tremendous surface once more, and hacking up some mud from his lungs. Shit, that had been close.

This was his second chance, except he didn’t see it coming. No one saw it coming. He was holding onto her, trying to pull her to him, away from gravity and the hunger of the swamp’s belly, when SLAM! It blindsided her with enough force to rip the girl away from him. It had all happened in a blink, and Alex still couldn’t believe that her hand was no longer in his.

“L-Linny?” His mouth turned downward in a helpless red frown as he shouted, “LINNY! Linny no! Godammit, NO!”

But it had happened. She’d been taken from him. The swamp had won and it had been all too easy. Alex’s mind receded to that place of memory as he replayed what had happened, moving the memory in slow motion before he’d realized that reality was still upon him. His hand, he’d felt her slip away so gently, like melting ice on a warm spring day. Now, she was gone, devoured by the mouth of the beast.

The whirlpool began to slow, taking a sacrifice for a meal as though that had been its desire. Suddenly, the swamp water was completely still, as though nothing had happened. She would be forgotten, eaten by nature. And the two survivors would be left with the memory.

Filling the newfound silence were the ringing sounds of Alex’s heaving, empty sobs.

[Gildarts]

It was perhaps the worst horrors you could imagine, and then some. To put yourself between death, and still have life stolen away from your very clutches- your own hands! This grief was just a fraction of what Alex was feeling now. He’d just lost his sister and it was mainly his fault. Had he been able to get her up sooner, she’d still be alive. Why did this curse of a swamp have to rip her out of his very hands?

In a lifetime’s flash, he saw it all. The picture of them together on their parent’s fireplace came to life, he was just a boy, four or five years old when they first went sledding, that sledding had evolved to baseball, and somehow, since it was a small town, she had been allowed to play on the boy’s baseball team, and she’d been a better hitter and pitcher than him. The kids laughed, but he always told them she’d go to the big leagues and that he was happy for her. That didn’t ever happen, simply because she’d gotten a knee injury and couldn’t run after that, probably why the swamp had won moments ago.

Death had taken no pity on his sister. Tch. He spat out the sorrow overflowing at his eyes and clouding his ears distastefully. How could he escape this pain? It was agony that wrenched his insides with sorrow. Merrel’s face was ghost white and he’d jumped into the waist-high water with Alex, patting a hand on his shoulder, hoping it wouldn’t get worse. Hoping the thought Why didn’t the swamp take you instead? didn’t cross his mind, maybe it would’ve stopped, as it had for his sister, instead of her. One choice, that’s all it would’ve taken and his sister could’ve been alive his arm wouldn’t have been thrown out and too weak to pull her in. One choice and he could only blame himself. Maybe, should have, could have, would have... Life would’ve been different, but the true horror was, our choices define us, and the future we’re condemned to live in.

Alex wasn’t like that, he was not tempted to fall into that trap, he was a pure hearted man who never shifted the blame, though he did have survivor's guilt, “Why didn’t it take me instead? WHY? Oh why God? How’m I gonna tell my mom? Merrel, what am I gonna do? My mom, she’s gonna...”

“Let’s get a move on, Alex, we’ll remember her, she’ll live on through us, if we let her,” Merrel tried to be inspired, but he’d merely paraphrased words he’d once read in a book. “There was no way we could’ve known it would’ve stopped after she drowned in there.”

Merrel was right, but Alex shook his head, “No, I don’t want to.. Want to… Leave her.” He sniffled, “Linny, come back!”

But that wasn’t how wishes worked. People didn’t just come back from the dead, and he knew it, so why did he wish it so hard that it burned in his heart? His fist splashed at the still water helplessly, “Take me instead!!!”

“My… Mom… And…” He sniffled and sobbed some more and now Merrel was the strong one.

“Come on Alex, let’s get out of here before that happens again, you don’t want your mom to lose you both in one day,” Alex’s feet began to follow Merrel,“There you go. I’ll lead the way. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Meanwhile

Emily inhaled a breath, the mist was gone, somehow, some sort of wind or something had sucked it away, however, their visibility was still really terrible, swamps were flat, and it seemed like she was in a thicket, before when the fog was still there, she’d bumped into tree after tree (or their branches) but now, she couldn’t see where she was going because she was swamped with trees. Most of them were dead too, or dying. No life was on them, they were constantly living in a dormant winter, not that leaves would have been able to catch much sun from this place anyway.

“Mitch, oh my god, I thought the swamp had gotten you,” the words sprouted from her mouth before she could fully translate them.

“Same to you,” he said and Kat’s feminine figure and Jamal’s tall and dark body-type both appeared behind him.

“Wow, I’m so glad you’re safe, sheesh, I was scared shitless and it’s nearly dark, I wasn’t sure what I was going to do, were you guys together the whole time?” Emily asked.

“Just about, but I think the others got lost, I doubt we’ll have service enough to even try and call them but it can’t hurt to know how much time has passed since we lost them,” Mitch chimed in and pulled out his phone to check the clock.

“Okay, do you guys want to continue heading straight or do you want to wait and see if we can find the others?” Emily asked, hoping for a democratic solution to their dilemma.

Mitch blinked, Kat stared at her, and it was Jamal who finally spoke, “If they are lost, us standing here in the dark isn’t going to help them find us, if the swamp is as big as we can guess it is, we should look for higher ground, I think leaving markers on the trees and scattering them might help them too. They’ll know the shirt if we choose someone who’s wearing a distinguished one that they’ll remember.”

It was a good call, and Emily thanked him for that. It also, however, could bring the monster that they (or more likely she) was trying to outrun, back to them, but they were separated, and if it was going to find them, it would do it with or without the markers. “So who has the best shirt?” Em smiled and looked around.

Mitch’s shirt was a barren gray, nothing distinguished about it, you couldn’t see it from over ten yards unless you were really looking, Jamal had a plaid shirt on, which would likely be their best pick, it was red and at the very least, would catch their eye. Emily’s shirt was white with their college’s symbol on it, but ripped up, the symbol wouldn’t be able to be identified. White was a distinguished color too, but it also could be anyone’s trail marker. Lastly, Kat was smiling and excited to see that she too had a bland shirt, it was an all black v-neck, hardly noticeable and would hardly catch their eye if it was torn up, on her though, with a push-up bra, she would’ve caught any man’s eye.

“Guess it’s me,” he said and pulled off his shirt without bothering to unbutton it. Overhead it came, revealing his well-cut ebony abdomen. He was on the track team, and ran constantly, his body was fit, and Kat turned to Emily, concealing the blush that rose on her cheeks in reference to Jamal. Emily hadn’t known about Kat’s crush until then, but it was rather cute considering their dismal situation. Maybe some good could come of it yet, after all, he was shirtless now.

“I’m going to do a headcount while Jamal tosses up his mark, remember, we don’t know how far we’re going so we might need your shirt for many strips. We’ll have to resort to mine if we run out.” Em stated clearly.

While Jamal didn’t say it out loud, his expression, catching Emily with a whip of Kat’s fury was, That wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen to us today.

Together, they were Emily, Mitch, Jamal, and Kat. They were missing Johnson, Alex, Merrel, and Linny. Oh and Trisha too. Hopefully they were all together, and not off on their own. There was power in groups, power enough to at least keep them level headed than desperate. “We’re missing six, the odds are high, if no one got mixed up in the fog that they’ll find our trail. In the dark it’ll be more difficult for them, but this is the best we’ve got. So, shall we go?”

“Let’s call out to them a few more times,” Kat said, worried about her friend Linny.

“I agree,” Mitch said.

“If we all call out at the same time, it might be louder, want to choose a name?” Emily said.

“Alex, short and two strong sounds at the beginning and end,” Jamal stated. Em nodded and together, on three, the group shouted.

“ALEX!”

“Let’s get a bit louder, and all face separate directions,” Emily added.

“Okay. One, two, three…”

”ALEX!”

“Quick, listen for a reply,” Emily said in a hushed tone. They tried again, and again. They waited ten minutes, and nothing, so they had to get a move on.

Walking forward, straight, was senseless, but they didn’t have much of a choice. Iphones hadn’t really been invented yet, and Razor flip-phones were all the rage, and not many college kids carried a compass on them daily, they barely remembered to eat breakfast.

Emily’s stomach growled and she blinked, blushing and hoping no one had heard her, Jamal asked her, “You’re hungry too? My metabolism is so fast, even after I get done a huge extra large pizza, an hour later and I’m starving, so I feel you there. Also, how often should I er… Leave a piece? You seem to know all about this stuff?”

“I don’t know that much, just what my dad taught me about getting lost in the woods. Try and leave it within eyesight of the other one, especially the first few, though to be honest, they could find our trail in the middle of it, or at night, or in the fog and not know where to go. Or not at all, there was a thicket back there and it was a maze. Uh, back to your answer, based on how staggered the trees are becoming, maybe at least every fifty feet.” she surmised.

“Got it.” Jamal said with a nod, and added in some comic relief, “I know it sucks, but at least you’re not shirtless in front of your classmates.”

“You’ll be in your underwear next, and the cure to stage fright will have not gotten any more effective,” she smiled in return to his kindness, even though it hadn’t been very effective, it was the thought that counted in the end.

“Uh, Em?” Kat said, “I have to ask you something.”

She had been within earshot, Great, now Kat is going to think I like Jamal, which, while it wasn’t the case, wasn’t what Emily had the time for thinking about, she wanted them to get out of this alive.

“Uh, can I ask you something in private?” Kat murmured quietly.

“Sure, but we aren’t separating again, look what happened, we’re six short.” Emily said in a calculative voice.

“Got it,” and she whispered in Emily’s ear.

“Oh, well, I wish we could’ve asked Trish, her handbag was the biggest and she seemed the most suited for this type of thing, but lemme see what I have,” Emily checked her satchel, which she’d started filling with rocks until she wasn’t able to find anymore, plus, it was pretty heavy.

In her satchel she fished out what she’d condensed as supplies to one of her pockets. There was a pen (not even a pencil!) her serviceless phone, and like, whatever else that wasn’t very useful. She wish she’d packed some food, but she had this class right after when she usually went to lunch, and yeah, that was that, no need for food. Now, though, she was starving, she didn't have a pad or tampon for Kat to borrow. And nightfall approached.

[Gildarts]

Trisha turned around, her breaths were heavy and filled with fear, she thought she’d heard a rustling in the bushes behind her, however, it seemed it wasn’t so. She held her breath. It had gotten dark and that had not only chilled the air, but it made every tree she passed more scary than the last. She thought of what Emily had said about the werewolf. Those don’t exist, but this wasn’t home either. There was no telling how to explain it, other than that Emily was likely hallucinating, it was a wolf sure, but there was no way it resembled a man as well.

She’d learned it in her Psych class, people’s minds often made up lies so that they could deal with the truth. So, the truth was that Claire was dead, but to cope with that truth? To cope with the blood all over her shirt? She’d made up a story, yeah, that had to be it. There was no other way. This was just a coincidence, this was just a nightmare, but she’d wake up soon, in her bed, and no one would know the difference.

Through the dark tree branches and the other shadows of the night, Trisha spotted a light and gasped with excitement. She’d found them! The others! Boy would she smack them for losing her in this situation, even in a dream, this was life or death! Getting lost and being alone with no way to defend yourself was scary, real or not.

“Alex? Emily? Mitch? Johnson? Is that you?!” She called out and her pace hastened, she raced forward to find a small opening of the trees, the ground was solid here, which, after walking that long in goop felt almost uncomfortable. Her hopes had gotten up, because she’d arrived and there was no one there. Actually, there was an empty shack that looked more like an out house than anything else, with a torch lit next to the door.

She stepped a bit closer, the mystery unfolding before her eyes and curiosity bribing her mind: What was inside? Well, to be both obvious and frank, the answers she sought were inside. Her friends might be in there too. If only she dared to open the latch…

Trish took a step into the light cast by the spooky torch that was set to burn atop the piece of wood and hesitation built up in the holding of her breath. She blinked again, she had nothing to be worried about, this wasn’t real, or at least the werewolf Em had made up wasn’t, what was she worrying about so much? It was common sense, or maybe it was in her gut, but she waited as her eyes contemplated with the mysteries held behind closed doors.

Meanwhile…

“Hey! What’s that up ahead?” Kat took a step forward and extended her arm as her index finger pointed to a small house in the twilight, it wasn’t quite pitch black yet, but it was certainly getting there, at that point, they’d have to use the dim screens of their phones for light, or simply let their eyes adapt.

“A house? No way,” Mitch muttered.

“That’s both creepy, and dangerous,” Jamal said, “Anybody ever feel like this is oddly reminiscent of a horror movie? Like okay, I’m ready for the dead people now.”

“Fear is just there to tell you that you’re not dead yet,” Emily chimed in, “Or… So my father says, the house is definitely spooky. Want to take a vote?”

“A vote? It is nearly dark! To me, it looks like a good place to stay for the night, like, if what you said about Claire was true. Plus, we have to wait for the others to be lead by our trail, and it’s like you said, they probably won’t find it at night.” Kat pointed out the obvious, with tones that were a little bitter, reminding Em that talking to Jamal so casually earlier had been some sort of mistake.

“Yeah, but there could be something in there that wants to kill us too, or maybe the roof caves in, just look at that, it looks… Decrepit.” Mitch shuddered.

“Hm, I think we should stop debating and just go in, we could find some tools and food, it could be worth the risk,” Jamal backed Kat up, as well as his own decision.

“I’m worried about going inside too, but I think the pros outweigh the cons, we’re desperate,” Em sighed as she agreed with them outwardly and hoped it would better convince herself of that fact, “But let’s be ready, everyone grab a rock, I have some in my purse here. Then we’ll bust in. We don’t know what’s behind that door, and it could very well try to kill us. Also, in no way should we get separated. We stay together at all times.”

It was a unified decision that no one fought, together they stood, Mitch and Jamal approached the door first, if they had to use blunt force, well, they’d have the advantage. Em and Kat stalked up behind them, everyone had a rock in their hand, ready to bludgeon someone to death, or a creature, and everyone hoped it would work should they be attacked. They could always run, especially before they got inside, they could still back out, and the coward’s temptation stirred within Emily. She wanted to run.

There was no way looking through what appeared to be an abandoned house was ever any good for the protagonist, not to mention when darkness fell. However, the door burst open with a wooden creak and they looked around, their eyes adjusted to the newfound darkness, they couldn’t quite make out the corners of the room from the furniture. It was a dangerous position to be in.

Kat edged her way in and flipped on the switch to the side of the door and surprisingly, the lights turned on. The room revealed a very aged wallpaper that was peeling, dust covered the entire room, there was a couch, a chair, two seventies style lamps that were now lit (one was standing, the other on a small end table) and there were curtains covering the windows and fraying just above the rotting floorboards. It had a spooky vibe, desolate, and felt about twenty degrees cooler on the inside.

“Whoa,” Mitch said breathlessly. The rest wordlessly nodded. Not exactly what any one of them had envisioned to say the least.

Jamal knocked on the wall loudly, he’d seen it done in a zombie series and it was supposed to draw them out, there was no pretending they weren’t there now, the lights were on, it was best if they knew what they were up against. But nothing came to the knocking he’d initiated. It was suspicious.

“I can’t believe this place still has electricity,” Em exclaimed.

“Me either, there must be a back up generator in the back, or something.” Jamal stated.

“What if… Someone still lives here? Or something?” Kat muttered.

“Let’s search the rest of the rooms, this may be a good location to bunker down for the night, rather than just wandering aimlessly around in the dark,” Emily said, and Mitch and Jamal lead the way through, the open archway that lead down a wooden hallway.

The aged wood groaned loudly with the set of four college students scattered overhead. They had nearly reached the kitchen when KA-DOOOSH! The floorboard below Mitch burst and his foot appeared to be eaten by the broken space. None of them were expecting it, but no harm was done to Mitch, Jamal offered a brother a hand up.

“Watch ya step ladies,” Jamal surmised and Mitch nodded in agreement, looking down at the floorboards suspiciously as they approached the new room.

They rounded the corner quickly and found it was empty, the air was stagnant and smelt of mold, though that could’ve been because the floorboard had created a direct path down below to the cellar and Emily was hopping over it. As Emily neared the empty doorway she found the kitchen was also very seventies. The tile was white and more on the dirty, dusty side, the cabinets were wooden, the countertops were plain, and there were splotches of salmon pink anywhere you looked too long. The fridge was an older one too, Emily doubted there would be a light in there to turn on, if the bulb hadn’t already blown.

Mitch and Jamal stood guard while Emily and Kat checked the cabinets, the girls tossed the few canned goods they found into their purses, but Em was skeptical that the food hadn’t already gone by. In the fridge there was moldy bread and cheese, which fused with her nose as she opened the door. The entire thing was busted, not that she was surprised, but the pungent smell had made her eyes water and she nearly gagged.

It was likely, she hoped as she slammed the door shut, that there was nothing edible in there. “Check the drawers too, one of us might find a…” a smile grew as she found it, “Knife.”

It was a huge steak knife, next to it, a paring knife. Both would be useful, she grabbed the blade sharpener too and tossed that in the bag as she gave the weapons to her own discretion. She also managed a can opener, that’d come in handy if the food was any good. She handed the smaller knife to Kat and kept the huge, machete-like steaker to herself. The blades would be better for the two girls because they had less strength in the torso, she wasn’t disarming the men and they could always switch weapons at any point. Em left her rock on the kitchen counter, happy for the upgrade.

Despite their looting, the house was still creepy, and they were onto the only bedroom next. It was mostly empty, the bed frame had rotted and the mattress had too, it was laying on the floor, so far the best part of the house was the living room they’d found the lightswitch in. The kitchen had caught a little bit of the light (enough for them to search it) but the overhead bulb had been shot.

The empty bedroom had a small lamp bedside, likely once used for reading or somesuch. Emily couldn’t help thinking this all felt like a blast from the past, like this is what time has done to a building, what it eventually does to people. It was alarming, and chilling. She couldn’t pinpoint it yet, but something had felt very wrong about how the lights still worked and how dilapidated this place was.

Mitch and Kat opened up the closet, Mitch ready with his rock and Kat going in with his knife, meanwhile, Jamal dared to peek out the curtains and noticed the window pane was broken, and what lay beyond it was startling. His eyes widened, but since Emily had been curious and watching him, he wasn’t able to hide the shock he was choking down. Emily narrowed her eyes and casually looked out the window too. Her eyes didn’t deceive even if the twilight was fading.

Over and beyond was a field that was filled. Dug up and refilled with little mounds, all of unmarked graves.

[Gildarts]

“Shit, we should go,” Emily still couldn’t believe what she was seeing, but it seemed her lips had processed it fast enough.

“What? Go? Go where?” Mitch asked, not having seen what lay behind the tan curtain.

“Look,” the curtain rings clashed along the steel rod in a metallic chime as she pulled them open, “Those are all unmarked graves, look close at the size and shape. Someone worked hard on those. God, my hand is shaking,” the redhead said audibly and tried to get her hand under control.

“Graves?” Kat’s jaw dropped as she received what Emily had said, “No… It can’t be.”

“But.. Where do we go? If we go out there, we might be who ever owns this house’s sitting ducks,” Mitch mused.

“He’d have the home-field advantage if we stayed here, but we have more numbers, and this house seems unlivable, which means maybe they abandoned their cause or died. I’m not sure how I feel about going back out there. This at least we can lay somewhat low until the sun rises.” Jamal stated.

This was when democracy backfired. People were panicked, no matter the decision, it would be made out of fear. Logic would kick in, and staying would be the more logical of the two, there was safety simply in knowing what they were up against. Emily however thought that anyone who had killed as many graves that were out there knew how to kill people swiftly and without injury because well, he’d lasted this long, right?

“That is so creepy Em. I don’t even… I would’ve never guessed those were graves, maybe he’s just a misunderstood farmer,” Kat wanted to believe it, so she spoke her wishes out loud.

“Do you want to continue searching the rest of the house?” Jamal asked the others, they could leave and turn tail right now, going out into the black abyss of the growing night, not knowing where they were going.

“No,” Emily stated firmly, “Let’s take some firewood and any kindling we can find and make camp in the forest.”

“Are you kidding? At least in here we’ve got wall to protect us against the things out there!” Kat disagreed, that was one against her.

“I think at the very least we should see if there’s anything else that can be found.” Mitch stated. Emily gripped her big ol’ knife’s handle harder, out of the fear she felt, the unease of danger. She couldn’t know when it would strike. She gulped down the dryness throbbing in her throat.

“Okay, we’ll search the rest,” Jamal said with some hesitation in his voice. “Cellar or attic first?”

God, if those were the choices, I didn’t know which one was less creepy. Emily thought to herself and waited till everyone else had filed out of the room to follow their steps.

“Attic,” Kat had spoken up, and Em thanked her as she played through all of the horror movies that ended in the basement of the spooky haunted houses. Then she blinked, realizing that the basement would then be the end of their search.

Crap. At the very least, Emily managed to angle herself the last up the ladder. It seemed to be the most sturdy part of the house and wasn’t weathered from time or the brashness of climate. She hurried up though, for the place she ascended was a little square cut out of the attic’s floor, and it creeped her out how she couldn’t see her feet, she had a fear that a hand would shoot out, hitch onto her ankle and drag her down.

The others were all gathered around, looking through some of this man’s dirty laundry, though not in the literal use of the term. They dredged up old pictures and photo albums which were quickly sifted through, and they could only guess which of the many people in the photographs was the killer and owner of this house.

“Oh… Oh God,” Emily said and her voice broke. Somehow she’d gotten stuck with the last uncharted corner of the attic, and she was opening a dusted over trunk and she unveiled a pile full of tiny shoes. There were likely twenty in this little chest, and there were several chests next to it. The little shoes belonged to little girls, most of them were different, some were the same, some were white, some were purple with cute little decals on them, some had mud splattered on them from splashing playfully in puddles. All of them horrified her.

It was now that she knew who was in those graves out back.

“What? What is it Em?” Mitch came up from behind her and saw the pile of shoes, he opened up the other two chests and the findings were the same, but with different types of shoes. This guy was a sick fuck and these were the trophies he took from the dead little girls he’d axed.

The pair of shoes she’d grasped in her hand fell to the ground as Emily realized, “Guys, I just realized… He’ll know what to expect if he comes home now. We left the lights on.”

Then it happened. There was a knock at the door.

[Gildarts]

Trisha had decided and reached for the black, glossy latch of the wooden door. This was enough playing games and deciding. It was pitch black and she was completely alone. There was only one real answer. To open the door. To continue wandering when the universe had thrown her a bone would have been reckless. Who knew what was in those woods? What lay dormant in the darkness, waiting to be stirred by the fresh scent of her pulsing blood.

Yeah, waiting out the night in spooksville here seemed like a good bet. First however, she knocked. It was polite, and well, if the outhouse was occupied, that was fine too. The cracks in the woodwork showed no interior light, good thing this torch had been left here… Eerily lit by no one in sight. This was definitely spooksville. She looked around, at the sound and feel of the freshly tilted latch. Nothing had stirred, but somehow it felt like she was walking into a trap.

It was too late now, she gulped and held the torch in hand as she swung the door open and jumped back a few steps. When nothing stirred, she took a few steps forward, ready to run if necessary, but filling the room with warm, amber light. It was surprisingly roomy inside and she was right, there had been a toilet. When was the last time she’d peed? She couldn’t bring it to mind, but she thought she’d opt for behind a bush than this. The stench wasn’t as bad as some state park outhouses and Trisha found herself taking another step forward, inside to get a better look. The wood below her screamed as though it were in agony, or simply warning her to run.

In front of her directly was the porcelain throne, she didn’t see any toilet paper near it, which was like, kind of gross, though there was still a pretty dark shadowed part of the corner. To her left however, there was a wall, a very dirty porcelain sink, and a faded, scratched up mirror above it. Trisha noticed herself in the mirror and stepped closer to it, her eyes narrow with worry and fear, and oh, had this change of emotion transformed her. The flesh between the bones of her cheeks looked gaunt, her eyes had dark circles underneath them and her hair was looking drab and out of place. She was in this spooky place and well, she was the one that looked haunted. There was a taste of irony in it, but Trisha resisted the urge to powder herself, though it had been built in since she was young from her perfection seeking parentals.

Then, the flame licked and she saw something shiny in the reflection behind her, a chill of fear was suddenly sent down her spine, she used the mirror and couldn’t bring herself to look behind her. Ah, but she was trapped and had to turn around and face this to know exactly what she was running from.

She gulped and she identified the pair of unique spectacles that their professor had worn. Yes, the same professor who had been running late to their class that very same morning before they’d somehow ended up here. Wrapped around his professor’s wool coat was something like fresh cotton, something like it.

Trisha braved up, clenched her teeth and dug her soles to the floorboards beneath her. There, waving in the flickering light was his dead, virtually mummified body. There was a silver sheet of skinny web (though she bet it was stronger than it looked) suspending the professor’s corpse in the air. Wrapped around him mostly like a cocoon was the webbing, lining his body like an infinite reel of silver fish line.

Trisha nearly dropped her flame as she let out a sickened scream.

But it wasn’t over yet. While she hadn’t seen the spider who had done this to the teacher, she was sure that it was either well-fed or that it would be eager to gain another prize for his display case of victims. She went to run, be free of this hellish outhouse when someone stepped in front of the doorway and blocked her way.

Trisha’s eyes widened, “Is that you Johnson? Oh my God, what ever happened?”

She couldn’t quite find it in herself to tell him to run, not when his hand had extended to her shoulder, not when she saw the sad state of his bubbling green face, and the purple haired arm that remained at his side with a bottle of Jack Daniels in hand.

“Help me… Trisha, what am I becoming?” Johnson’s voice was garbled and muffled by the roar of the beast that desperately wished to be released from within.

“What did you… How can this be happening?” Trisha asked herself as her eyes continuously scanned him. This was definitely a dream. It had to be. Johnson was becoming some sort of mutated monster, his skin, his eyes, his face… Everything looked as though it had been cut up from little pieces of magazine and sewn on together, he was a mismatch and… He shouldn’t have been allowed to see himself. She had to lead him out the door, away from the mirror and the light. No one should have to see themselves as… Becoming a Halloween costume.

But perhaps he already had seen, the alcohol was on his breath and it didn’t seem like his transformation was complete. “Don’t insult me! I lost Claire, I lost her, and then I got lost here! How, how, how can this world be so cruel? And how can my body be changing like this… Trisha you have to help me find a cure, Claire wouldn’t like what I’ve become. Don’t just stand there, help me!”

The beast began to shake her shoulders, with little to know disregard for the flame-lit torch still in her hand. The light shone below Johnson’s monstrous green chin, showing a new face, captured in all its horror the way the light streaked upward and left shadows above his already ghoulish eyes. Boils had formed on his skin since first moment she’d seen him and it seemed that he was still transforming. His voice was warping into deeper tones and his words became incoherent slurs. “Rahhhhhh!”

He really did sound like a monster now, but that didn’t necessarily have to mean he had become one, right? Trisha struggled to get free, stepping to the side and edging back from the outhouse, “RAHHH!” He was still trying to reason with her, maybe, but he’d lost his ability for english. He was becoming less and less human by the second. “Help me please, or I’ll crush your little neck in!”

He had started to say, the thread stood. He was going to kill her. The enlivened flint in his eyes told her it was true, the evil, the inner monster was spreading throughout his body and threatening to take hold. And she was witnessing it. A man turned demon. And Johnson, in all his anger and self-pity and sorrow was letting it in. Trisha stood back again, and Johnson’s monster lurched at her, claws had formed on his purple-haired arm, “RAHH! I’m not jooooking!!” he cackled, releasing the madness in the air of amusement that was filling him.

Just then, when Trisha was sure she was going to die at the hands of her former classmate and football champion, a hope shot out through the darkness in the form of a small wire. Then another shot out, aimed at Johnson’s foot and sealing him to the ground. The monster thrashed and grunted as he fought hard to pull up his foot. Trisha gasped as she looked at her savior, a giant spider crawling out of the out house’s ajar door, it had enormous black legs that carefully plucked where it stood and balanced its weight one by one. The creature’s thorax was patterned with black and neon splotches, almost like the watercolor patterns they show you when you get your psych evaluation. How lovely for that thought to have popped in her head.

The spider was almost feminine, though it could have been her legs and the way she seductively strut over to her fresh meat. Then, it spun its web around Johnson with a whirlwind of stunning speed, it didn’t like being out in the open this long, it seemed. Then when he was pinned an immobilized though, unlike the professor, still squirming, the spider took one look at Trisha, as though sizing her up for both her meat and her threat level.

The spider’s myriad of eyes glinted in the light she held in her hand. Trisha’s body was rigid with fear, but she was sure that the giant arachnid knew which of them was stronger. She took a hesitant step back, hoping it would translate into spider as “I mean no trouble, I won’t fight or injure you in any way” and God, did Trisha hope those days of her childhood where she’d tossed the spiders she found in her room back outside rather than squatting at them would pay off in this moment where karma and kismet collided.

The spider’s pincers drooled with poison, the same that had paralyzed the prof before he’d died. To think this colossal creature was hiding in that bathroom all along made her afraid to use any kind of restrooms any time soon. Her black eyes stayed steady on Trisha, as though deciding, “Is tonight to get greedy? Do I let gluttony take hold?” however, the heat of the flame in the fire made her reconsider, she did not like to get burned, and was vulnerable to fire, she could lose a leg. The spider had pittered with its eight legs over to her gift-wrapped dessert, Johnson, and sunk her fangs into his neck. Still, its eyes was on Trisha, as though still testing the human prey.

Trisha stood glacially still and the arachnid receded into the darkness of its precious home. It wasn’t until she heard his agonized scream was she sure it was safe to run.

[Gildarts]

Kill or be killed, she’d been saved by a monster that should’ve killed her, from someone who should’ve been by her side the whole time. Johnson? What had gone wrong with him? Her mind looked back, replaying the memories, his teeth had enlarged to fangs, and he wasn’t just turning into one creature, but many. Trisha blinked as she thought about the way he’d shaken her like a pair of maracas. As though waiting for the sound of her scream. Sure, she would have liked to help him, she would’ve been in the same position, but she suspected that there was nothing she could have done.

Yet why hadn’t she run? Had she been paralyzed by fear or the devil’s all too seductive mistress, curiosity? In all honestly, it was hard for Trisha to put forth what she had seen, she had to have been hallucinating, dreaming, living in anything but reality. And yet…

Maybe Emily hadn’t made it up. Maybe this woods was full of monsters and demons, but that realization simply made Trisha more afraid of the dark she was already bathed in. What lay unknown behind the unending forest of trees, behind every corner or swirl of the path she’d chosen to take? Johnson was dead, and she was all alone and this mission had been christened with a horrible death. And she had been witness to it all.

And Johnson? He’d found booze, to kill the pain of Claire, but something told her that the booze were laced with something else, admitting it however, would be admitting magic and witchcraft was real. She wasn’t a child, this wasn’t the wonderful world of Harry Potter from a children’s book, this was real, she’d seen it herself and she was begging her mind to take away the memory, after this was all over and she was safe, she’d get drunk as Johnson had, on liquor that didn’t change her into what she’d seen. Johnson. The horror of him becoming what he feared was inside him all along, sometimes, we become the very monsters we have hiding within.

However, now was not the time to be looking back. Trisha had sprinted and sprinted as far as she could to get away from the outhouse, as fast as she could without burning out the flame. She had thought she liked having the torch at first, the power of fire and light at her hands, but that was before she saw the many creatures that leapt from shadow to shadow, hiding behind the dark night that she could not see past. The horror had set in. She was stranded, lost, and alone without a clue of what to do to survive the night.

Meanwhile

“Who’s that knocking at the door?” Kat whispered and no one dared move.

“We have two choices, run, or hide up here and hope he doesn’t find us. Our best option is here, because we are armed and if anyone tried to come up here we’d be on higher ground,” Emily surmised and the knocking became more rapid.

“We can’t un-turn off all the lights, we’ll be sitting ducks up here if he finds us,” Mitch’s face etched with a frown full of fear.

“But why would he knock at the door if it’s his own house? It could be some of the others, the trail leads right to the house,” Jamal stated and the four college students looked at one another. Fear flickered in their eyes.

“Hey! Guys it’s us, Alex and Merrel, but he’s hurt pretty bad, are you guys in there?” Alex’s familiar voice was loud enough to drill through the muffling walls.

“Alex!?” Kat jumped up and down, “Let’s go help them!”

Emily paused for a moment, no one moved. “What? What is it?” Kat asked as she hesitated at the ladder.

“It… could be a trick,” Jamal said.

“What? Are you kidding? This is the best news we’ve had all day and you think we shouldn’t let them know we’re here?” Kat protested, finding the other three party members to be acting ridiculously. “Well, I’m going down there, you should see yourselves, this is pathetic.”

The girl started down the ladder and Emily shrugged before ushering Mitch toward the ladder, “Well, we can’t let her go alone.”

To their relief it really was Merrel and Alex, they’d already entered and were loitering in the That 70’s Show living room, completely covered in flaking layers of scummy dirt. Merrel was hobbling over to the paisley couch, taking a seat there in his wide girth. The mud was everywhere but the buzz of his blond hair and his blue eyes radiated with the dark backdrop of dirty clay, he hadn’t said too much yet. Alex on the other hand was smiling, he looked intensely thankful for all the familiar faces, it must have been maddening, and who knew how long he’d been out there alone? Alex’s black hair was clumped together with dried mud, and his clothes were completely ruined with dark stains, but everything felt a little better now that they were united.

Emily sighed a breath of relief as the terrible trepidation evaporated from her body, “It really is you.”

“See? I told you.” Kat nudged and like a family reunion, everyone, despite the gross layers of dried mud and scent of terror-fueled sweat, hugged each other in greeting.

Alex held on to Emily for a little too long, she was perplexed until, he whispered in her ear, “My sister’s dead.”

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered back, and the two had a moment of silence before they pulled apart, “At least you made it back safe.”

Alex nodded and everyone in the room found a place to sit. Merrel was on the couch with Alex and Mitch, Kat sat in the singular chair, Jamal sat on the end table next to the lamp, and Emily sat on a cushioned ottoman.

“So, you guys look like shit,” Jamal said, and the smiles were passed around the room once more.

“Quite literally, unfortunately,” Alex began, Merrel’s body was going into shock, he had a fever and looked as though he couldn’t quite keep himself awake, “It looks like the swamp didn’t even scathe you guys, maybe you don’t even know what I’m talking about, it came alive and nearly killed us, I can’t even begin to fathom it. But uh, Merrel’s hurt really bad. A rock crushed his shin and it is likely something’s broken. There was bleeding but it has stopped since then, it has been about three hours since the wound occurred, and uh, we were chest deep in stagnant swampy mud, which means he has a high risk of infection, if it isn’t already.”

“Shit,” Mitch said, looking down at Merrel’s leg, you couldn’t tell all that because the pant leg covered it, as well as the stain of mud and dirt.

Emily looked at the blood that had dried on his sock and was also on his boot. Blood. Hopefully none of these monsters dwelling outside were sharks, sniffing them from a mile away. Alex had left out the death of his sister, and for good reason, Merrel was their priority. Hearing Linny was dead could start panic.

“Isn’t like, walking through a swamp with an injury something that causes gangrene? We’ve gotta get you guys sterilized,” Kat stood up, and Mitch did too. They’d do a second sweep through, then, they might look for a booze cellar in the basement.

“Listen, we’ll do our best for Merrel right now, but we can’t stay here, this house might look abandoned, but the lights turned on, and you can’t see it from here, but the back yard… Has a much of unmarked graves buried in it,” Emily told the news to Alex, she wasn’t sure it would register to Merrel, nor that it applied.

“He’s gotta rest, we can’t not stay here. Plus, have you even been outside? The swamp came alive and nearly swallowed us whole. We were lucky we came out of it alive,” Alex spoke darkly, knowing what that would translate to Emily, who he’d told about his dead sister, “Something is going on here, you were right Emily, but now we’ve got to deal with this, with what is out there!” Alex stood up and pointed past the window with the long curtains strung up at the borders of the vertical panes, “You really want to be wandering out there at night, waiting for something to eat you when you can’t even see it?”

“He’s right, we don’t even have a flashlight,” Jamal sighed, he didn’t like the idea at all but this was the group’s best option. Emily remained silent gulping down her worst fears and walking over to Merrel who had propped up his legs rightfully on some pillows. The couch was a good spot for him, now it was time for the reveal, just how bad was his injury? And would it hold them back in the morning?

Emily was all about staying in one spot and waiting for help, but in the hours they’d traversed the swamp and forest, she hadn’t seen a single helicopter or plane. Something told her, it wasn’t that kind of world. The redhead slowly walked over to him and said, “This might hurt a bit, but the pant will likely hurt your leg if it is swelling,” then she tugged along the edge of his pants at his ankle, noticed his wince and how full his leg was to the fabric and used her blade to cut through anything below his knee. The scraps of wilted, brown-stained jeans fell to the cushion of the couch and revealed his injury. Blood from a thick looking gash had oozed to his ankle and dried there, his shin was swelled three times the size it normally would be, there was some discoloration of green and purple along the skin but no real bruise had accumulated yet.

She gulped down her fear and continued checking the wound, mainly the gash, because it looked as though it had been ripped from the inside out, which meant that the bone was broken and now nearly sticking out of his leg, now, there was no need to announce that or cause panic at this time, but from what she could see of his swollen leg, Merrel was in really bad shape.

Her wrist met his forehead and she pulled back immediately, high fever, infection had set in. “Do we have any water?” She asked over her shoulder and someone, Jamal’s voice, said they’d go get some.

“How bad is it?” Alex asked and noticed that Merrel was fighting just to keep his eyes open.

“How did you walk him here, and did you rest at all in the woods?” Three hours was a lot for an injured person to be on their feet, er, foot. But it didn’t necessarily surprise her, if they were going at a slow pace. Her gaze bore through Alex with grave seriousness, and he didn’t feel the need to ask that question again.

“We rested pretty frequently, every fifteen minutes, but there weren’t a lot of places to rest, we were still running from…” Alex got quiet as Kat and Mitch came back in the room. They’d raided the kitchen for booze and it was Kat who held the winning trophies, she’d looked where her mom hid them behind a photograph when her dad had reached the worst part of his drinking problem.

“We found some,” she set them on the end table, “Do you know what to do Em? You’re standing there looking a lot like a doctor.”

“Not really,” she said, “Anyone going to school for their medical degree?”

“No, and I don’t think Jamal is either,” Mitch said and he room grew quiet.

“Obviously we need to sterilize the wound, he needs to stay hydrated too,” Em stated, not bothering to say why. If they didn’t treat him properly, he wouldn’t live past a few days and his state would deteriorate even further.

“Uh, is it just me, or does he not look too good,” Kat was looking at Merrel, who’d awoken to bend over off the edge of the sofa and let go of the bile his stomach was holding onto.

Vomiting, in his case, was never a good sign.

[Gildarts]

“I wasn’t able to find any freshwater, it’s all very stagnant and probably growing bacteria, I wouldn’t risk it.” Jamal reported, coming back in the room with his distinguished lack of shirt and seeing the fresh mess on the floor.

“This swamp could go on for hundreds of miles, he needs water and medical attention, the most we can do for him right now is toss some alcohol on the wounds, I’d like to dilute it too, with some water, but I guess that was hoping for too much,” Emily stated out loud, “Does anyone else have any ideas? His wound is infected and his body is fighting it off, he’s likely in shock and dehydrated. The bone is likely broken and poking out from there.”

Emily pointed, now was the time to unveil all, “Did any of you see a washer and drier? We could try to treat the water’s bacteria with a drop of bleach.”

“We haven’t checked the basement yet,” Mitch added. Alex cast a sharp look of surprise, that spoke of the dangers of the unknown.

“Looks like we better,” Jamal said and stood up, “Alex and Kat stay here with Merrel, Mitch and Em come with me.”

Kat’s expression exhumed relief as she was spared, and Alex just stared at Merrel, hoping that some way his friend on the brink of death could fight this.

The door was wooden, covered in a thick glaze of gloss. The latch was metallic and unpainted, likely just regular iron and there was a little wear at the base of where you’d flip the latch up. Slowly, adding to the eeriness of the moment, Jamal gently lifted the latch which protested with a squeak and then the door opened revealing a dense canvas of black. Like an abyss, it sat there for a moment, gaping.

If this wasn’t spooky, Emily didn’t know what was. The air was cold in the basement, and it had flooded up with a breeze at them. The silence of the cellar was stagnant, somehow void and observant. As though behind the thick curtain something was waiting, watching, breathing in the vacant silence

“Any lightswitch?” Emily asked in a hushed voice, shattering the transfixed gazes of her classmates.

“Uh… Doesn’t look like it,” Jamal’s hand waved along the edges of the wall and past the doorframe, “In the seventies though, didn’t you just walk downstairs and you’d pull the little chord underneath the lightbulb itself?”

Em nodded, “Yeah,” and walked over to the kitchen counter where she’d once sat her rock, it wasn’t out of the way, and there was some overall hesitation about plunging into the darkness. She thought, why not let something else go first? And she weaved her arm under Jamal’s shoulder and tossed the heavy rock from her hand. They listened as it rolled steadily down the stairs they couldn’t see. But she had to test the waters before she let anyone go down first.

The sounds were like ripples and they waited to hear anything stir in reply to their radar.

Clink!

Clunk!

Bump!

Clunk!

Clunk!

Clud!

Nothing rustled, nothing that they could hear anyway, after the sound of the rock reaching the bottom, they all exchanged a finalized look. Their expressions, a little less plagued with fear now. “Phones ready?”

“Yep,” Mitch and Em agreed.

Jamal took the plunge, the first in their demise downward and into the uncharted. Emily second, she had the biggest knife and wasn’t willing to give it up, meanwhile Mitch last he was shivering, the fear was tangible but he didn’t audibly complain. He was being a real trooper. Kat would’ve never gone down these stairs. Too much could go wrong.

Jamal’s feet tested the wood of every step and at every step, the degrees of darkness grew gradually black. If Emily didn’t hear his breathing directly in front of her, she wouldn’t have a clue he was there. Next step, she heard his foot gently tap the stair. He was doing it slowly, like he expected some of the wood to be old enough to break like it had under Mitch in the hallway. That was, however, likely just from rot.

There was a stench in the cellar, like something had died there. Each of the college students still extended their hands to the walls, attempting to find a switch, or it was more likely for them to trip on each other than finding some bleach. Still, they held their flip phones phones up and raise their weapons at-the-ready, the dim light their screens were casting was terribly insufficient. They needed tools.

Mitch took a step down behind Em and nearly stumbled down and lost his footing. His hand reached for her shoulder which caused her to jump with in unhinged moment of fright. “Just me,” he said quietly with embarrassment and he used her to regain his balance while steadying her too. She stayed where she was after gasping under her breath at the sudden reach to her shoulder. In a place as dark as this, it was hard to remember she was surrounded by not just allies but friends.

She exhaled and Jamal continued his steps gingerly climbing down the stairs. “It smells gross down here,” Mitch stated the obvious, however Em figured he wanted to be comforted by the familiar sound of his own voice. “I know this is ridiculous, but it feels like there’s something else down here.”

“Don’t jinx us. If there was, it would’ve been roused by the sudden sound of my rock,” Emily said, so sure. But really, she knew she was trying to convince herself it was true. There was a spooky haunting of something prowling in the shadows, hopefully, Emily prayed, it could be slain by a blade.

Jamal remained quiet, hoping they would follow his lead. Of course Jamal felt the eyes of whatever creature was on him, but he couldn’t decide the direction, he couldn’t pinpoint the source of his fears, which made the terror thrilling his bones faster and hotter than static, all the more real. And worse, he couldn’t backtrack and go back up the stairs. One reason, because his friend was up there and needed him. Another reason was that if he ran, he’d be the last up the stairs, and he’d be turning his back to whatever dwelled in the darkness. He still wanted to run, fear crawled beneath his skin, wriggling beneath the faded ebony and churning his stomach.

He held up the screen’s light on maximum brightness, and halted, hesitating even to take a breath as he felt the flat stone cellar collide with the base of his sole.

[Gildarts]

“I have a bad feeling about this… Let’s turn back,” Mitchel said as he heard the silent scuff of Jamal’s shoe against the rough stone.

“We can’t, we have to try and find bleach, and anything else that could be useful,” Emily glared at him, her expression of scorn however, was lost in darkness. “Plus, if we were gonna stay here all night, wouldn’t you like to know what lays below your pillow?”

“I feel it too, Mitch,” Jamal finally admitted, “But we can’t turn back. Not now. Let’s hope we find something useful down here and then get the fuck out.”

Emily frowned as next it was her toes cresting the final step. Jamal could’ve put it in a much more nobler frame, though even righteous goals weren’t enough to motivate cowards like she was beginning to think Mitchel was. Mitch nodded in response to Jamal, a smile of relief formed on his lips, “You got that right.”

Em regarded the hope Jamal had tactfully placed in Mitch’s mind, and her jaw dropped in awe. Like magic, or a miracle, it had been enough. Astounding. Away from their humanity, Emily continued her look around, inquisitive with her dim phone light beaming across the darkness like it were a cloud of dense smoke. It didn’t go past a foot or two and as the girl stepped forth, she felt her body grapple with tension. Whether it was instinct, or her human mind’s natural calibration to be weary of the unknown, it held her back, nearly paralyzed.

“Do you feel that?” She managed to express hoarsely.

“Yeah,” Jamal said. Mitch was hovering on the last step of the stairway.

“What… Is it?” She managed to whisper.

A sound penetrated the darkness. Not sourced from her, Mitch, or Jamal, but from across the way. It sounded like a bucket had been knocked over, the cacophony of metal against stone scraped in their ears and Mitch and Em gasped simultaneously. Jamal kept his lips buttoned.

“Th-there’s something down here,” Mitch said hastily.

“It was probably a rat,” Jamal said. But both he and Em knew he wasn’t so sure.

They could turn back. They could go right now. Run and never look back. But their mission would then be incomplete. And their curiosity would never be sated.

Mitch, the most cautious of the three remained on the stairs, “I’m not so sure…”

“Well, stay there, I’m going to keep looking for the lightswitch,” Emily stated, she was kind of tired of his bullshit, even if her gut was telling her to do the exact same thing. Jamal was courageous. Emily was honor-bound. Both would die for their causes. Sad part was, cowards got to run for theirs. Running seemed like it was the best possibility to survive, too. Pretty fuckin’ sad.

But she had to keep up her face of strength, even if it killed her.

Curiosity, along with her feet, finally delivered her to a wall with a desk on it. “I found something!” she announced to the guys as her eyes scanned the old liquor boxes that had been piled on it for anything useful.

“Anything good?” Jamal echoed.

“Hmm,” she said extending her hand to rustle through empty paint cans, a rusted cookie sheet, and some miscellaneous items. “A small shovel, pretty dull and rusted though, along with… What’s this?”

“Guys,” Mitch’s voice sounded perturbed, “I just… Stepped on something squishy…” Mitch announced, “And it wasn’t my own shit.”

“What?” Jamal said, doubling back, hoping to find a clear answer beneath his rattling friend. Jamal followed Mitch’s light and was there, kneeling below his fellow college student’s waist and seeing if he could figure out what had been stepped on. “Lemme see…”

“Can you see what it is?” Mitch asked eagerly.

“Disemboweled dead rat. That’s probably what’s causin’ the stench.” Jamal said.

“I didn’t see any cats around here, how do you know it’s disemboweled?” Mitch began to worry once more, anxiety filling him, his worst nightmares were being realized. What if a monster was living down here, eating rat guts and waiting for bigger prey?

“Cause I’m lookin’ at em, and I don’t think you would’ve caused this just by stepping on it.” Jamal waved his phone over to the trail of dried blood along the floor, it was maroonish black in this light.

“What do you think would’ve caused that…?” Mitch questioned, seeking a logical answer that would keep him down here with his allies.

“Cat, like you said, or a snake. Though a snake would’ve tried to eat it whole.” Jamal stood back up and continued on his path, hoping to find something like Emily had. “Anything else Em?”

“Nah, just some old toys and stuff,” she noted.

“Agh, a metal cobweb just dangled in front of my nose,” Mitch announced.

“That’s the light switch chain! Pull it!” Emily said eagerly, and then raised her knife again, bracing as the little Chin-Click! sounded off.

However no light was brought. “Raise your phone up to it,” Jamal instructed and then determined, “The bulb’s fried. Filament is gone. Was probably left on by someone, keep looking, cellars like this are good places to store flashlights.”

There it was, hope again. It unnerved Emily, who was beginning to worry that hope was meant to combat a truth that Jamal wasn’t ready to admit to himself, nor them.

Her steps followed the wall, which now turned a corner. So far, she’d ruffled through the few boxes and found nothing of use. No water, no canteen to store water, no bleach, no flashlight, no weapon, just useless garbage. It was like an overflowing of stuff in her parent’s garage. None of it was useful but all of it was hoarded only for memory’s sake. They needed food to survive. Maslow’s pyramid had taught them that much. It hadn’t, however, taught them how to acquire it in an apocalyptic situation like this.

Her faith was faltering, and her mood was getting a little bit grouchy. Perhaps she was irritable from the hunger, another part, told her it was likely the fear of being helplessly ripped apart or obliterated by the unknown that lurked in the shadows.

“I found something!” Mitch announced joyously.

“What is it?” Jamal asked, “Even if it is a jacket I could use one once it gets dark out. Temperatures and all that…”

Jamal tried to assign importance to Mitchel to keep up his purpose and vigilance, it was smart, they needed the manpower. But Emily was getting eager, “Well? What is it?”

“I can’t… Quite make out the letters…” Mitchel smeared the grime of gray dust off with the side of his thumb.