As the world faded away into nothing but a dark void, Tom felt the only mildly familiar sensation of magic flowing like a gentle stream. It wasn’t much of a draw, but it was certainly noticeable.
“Right, best make this quick then,” he tried thinking to himself, feeling the flow peak as he did.
“Who is this? Make what quick?” an ethereal sounding female voice replied. It did sound a bit like how he remembered Joelina sounding. Though she did not exactly sound calm.
“Uhm… Hello? Anyone there?”
“Yes hello. Who is this? What must be done quick? Answer me at once!”
“It’s Tom… Is that you, Joelina?”
“Yes of course it is! Stupid dragons taking ages, I have questions for you! So many questiiioooonssss...”
“Yeah I figured that… Fire away I suppose.” Tom replied a little uncertainly as to just what he might be in for.
“Firstly! Did you read the letters?”
“I did yeah…”
“Disregard them, I have learned much since they were written! So much more yes, cursed blessed knowledge…”
“So you do know we have gone to space then?”
“What? No, I re-experienced the memory you had of the movie about the moon mission. It was evident on the second watching that it was trickery of the eye! Spaceflight is but a myth!”
“Riiight.”
“Then how have your kind visited space? And what of the gods above!? it was evident that the woman with the crystals was but a fraud!” Joelina explained with all the calm and restraint of a shoppingmall Karen
“Well the rockets to the moon, that did happen.” Tom attempted, doing his best to remain calm and diplomatic. “The movie you saw was probably a recreation… Tell me, did things go wrong on that trip but they made it home anyway?”
“Yes, do you know of what I speak? Ahr what am I proclaiming! of course you do it is your own memories, how could I forget.”
“Yea…, you watched a movie about Apollo 13 I think. Good movie, and that all happened too. Like for real happened”
“I see…” Joelina replied, sounding rather unstable. “And what of the gods?”
“We ain’t got any. Well not in space at least.”
“Impossible!”
“No, quite possible. Many still believe in gods though, but let’s not get into that too much. It’s a right old mess.”
“No, you must tell me what happened to the gods? Have they left you?”
“Well some think so, but no. I just think it all works a bit different for us. They might be a little more hands off.”
“But the churches… and these religious warriors you did battle with,” the inquisitor all but muttered to herself, sounding like she was struggling to put pieces together. “Do Jesus and Islam fight for power then? no no, they would have long since lost the battles to the ancient gods of war the teachers spoke of… though why they were always naked eludes me yeeees…”
“No, again we don’t really have gods just floating around... Could we please talk about something else? Or is that all you wanted to know?” Tom tried, hoping he really didn’t have to dive deeper into that particular subject.
“No no don’t you dare cut me off! I have seen what you talked of, nuclear fire and missiles, ships of the oceans and planes soaring in the skies. But is it not all fake? Surely it must be! It must be? It must be…”
“I don’t know what you saw… but we have ships sailing around. If you’ve ever seen flying ships like you have here then that’s fake I can assure you of that. We do have airships, but they look more like really big long balloons.”
“But we could make such vessels, or someone could from times past. If you can visit the moon then surely you can make a ship for the skies!”
“No no, we ain’t got grav oil. Or dragon essence as I guess it’s called. That means no anti gravity, and that means weight is a very very big problem for anything you wanna make fly. Planes and helicopters are how we fly. Remember how I flew to Afghanistan on a big ass plane? Or when I learned to parachute later?”
“What is parachute? is it the ham from your times doing, vacationing? what has dried meat products got to do with flying machines of battle!”
“Wooo easy now easy. I guess you didn’t get that far yet. Uhm. It’s a cloth kite you dangle from and then glide to the ground. Very good fun.”
“A cloth kite used to fly?... such strange inventions. Wait was there not a movie of with something of that nature? yeeee… there was a song. I liked that song… something something brains upon his chute. Yeesss…”
“Yeah… You’ll know it when you see it. I have one actually.” Tom clarified trying not to get too weirded out.
“You must demonstrate on a suitable occasion.”
“Yeah… I do have a question too though,” Tom replied, letting silence reign for a short time. “...Your last letter was in Danish.”
“Oh, uhm yes. I- I was having some difficulty separating what was real and what was not… I still am. Do not tell Glazz, she musten know the truth yet. She seeks to limit my excursions.”
“You’ve ended up like I did, have you?”
“No no no, the effects do indeed recede as expected, everything is in good order… But I had to know more. So so much moooore.”
“Maybe you should cool it a bit. You never know when a brain snaps. Or how,” Tom tried, confident his advice would be ignored.
“There is not time!”
“And why is that? How is it going in our beloved Inquisition?”
“Mind your tongue, human! Things are progressing, but so are our enemies. Infiltrators have been caught, traitors within our ranks are making their moves. The reemergence of Rashan, attacks on mines, keeps and a daring heist attempt at a Royal Guard fortress! The game is afoot, we cannot delay.”
“You can’t overreach yourself either. Weren’t you supposed to be winning over the rest of the inquisition right about now? Can’t do that as a gibbering mess.”
There was silence for a while more after that. “Glazz sent you a letter? What did it say?! You may not keep secrets from me- wait not… I should confiscate her arm… she cannot write with her left. Yes far better plan, avoid upsetting him. And fill her pen with invisible ink. Yes very good.”
“No, it’s just obvious to any idiot. But what about winter, won’t things slow down?”
“They should, yet as autumn progresses it has only been picking up. I hope they too are running out of time… But time for what? I must know what they are planning. They might be behind schedule. But what SCHEDULE! sorry…”
“Well you’re not gonna find the answer to that in my memories, now are you?”
“You were sent by someone. You are here for a purpose. I must know this purpose. It will help me understand. The puzzle is large and much of the box kept from me.”
“As far as I’m concerned, I’m here to help you guys get in gear. That’s a decades to centuries long sorta problem, not a couple of years. Sounds like this war will be in the couple of years category.”
“Then why now? Why did you arrive now?!”
“Shitty luck? Sounds like 10 years ago would have been a lot better… Oh on that note, did you hear? We found something down below.”
“No, Paulin would have told me.”Joelina dismissed, he could almost feel her turning her snout up and away from him.
“Well we opened the vault like 3 days ago,” Tom replied, quite surprised Paulin hadn’t said anything. “Wait yeah she can send you messages, no? She sent the message about what we wanted to buy too, didn’t she?... How did she do that by the way? Why didn’t you just have her ask me questions?”
“That is not for you to know, and this is not for her.”
“Really? More secrets still? Come on, tell me or I’ll let you think flying whales exist.”
“I know those are not real. If they were, you would have harvested them long ago! likely for some deranged snack… or facial decoration.”
“True, but you get the idea,” Tom persisted, feeling like this was something worth pushing for. Why would Paulin not have let her precious Joelina know?
“Very well. This does not leave your mind… In the name of, what was it called… camaraderie. Paulin is in possession of joined paper. Messages may be written down and read by anyone with similarly joined paper. Unsecured. Originally believed to be fore love letters… dastardly studs and wenches using perfectly good magic for such trivialness… simply tie the message to a rock and throw it though the window. Most peasants cannot even afford glass” Joelina trailed off, seemingly zoning out once more.
“You have magical paper that can relay written information… and you don’t fucking use it!?” Tom explaimed, not quite believing what he was hearing.
“No, we do not know how to make freshly bonded paper… only more linked to all other paper in existence…” Joelina agreed. He could almost feel her looking at the floor in shame. “But it is not as if you are infallible, why did you not bring one of these radios?”
“I uhm…”
“Why didn’t you?!”
“I forgot,” Tom admitted, thinking back to his packing days. Of all the things that could have proven useful, that one might have been his biggest blunder.
“For the love of all that is holy! You are our saviour?!” Joelina scolded, understandably so, but still.
“Hey I never claimed to be smart!”
“I have lived your dreams. That is a lie! You very much claim to be smart!”
“Fuck off, I know you are just a scared little insecure girl.”
“She died 30 years ago!”
“Well I haven’t gotten to that bit yet!”
“What in the devils do you mean?” Joelina questioned calming right down in a fraction of a second.
“I’ve only had like three proper dreams about you… wait no, not like that,” Tom blurted out as it clicked just how wrong that sounded. Joelina didn’t seem to care in the slightest though.
“Three? That is it!?” going right back to outrage.
“Yeah… Wait, how many have you had?” Tom questioned. He rather wanted to know just how much she might know about him in addition to the memories she had already picked through when inside his head.
“Several a day!” the inquisitor exclaimed in reply.
“Okay, I can see how that would drive someone a bit mad.”
“I am not going mad!”
“Did Glazz say the same thing?” Tom questioned, quite certain he was striking a nerve.
There was no reply for quite some time, Tom feeling the headache growing as things grew tranquil once more. He could feel his breath. It was rapid, and his heart was pounding. He probably shouldn’t do this for much longer. Thus he endeavored to break the silence.
“You probably should listen to her you know.”
“No! These matters are above her station!”
“Hasn’t she been in the Inquisition longer than you?”
“She has yes. But she is no inquisitor. She is a body guard.”
“Seems like she is a wee bit more than that,” Tom pushed on. He didn’t yet know how those two came to stick together, but it was clear they had been working together for decades by now. All the way since she was assigned to Harvik
“Mind your own matters, human.”
“Very well, don’t think I can keep this up anyway.”
“We have barely been chatting! Where do the dogs come from?!”
“Selective breeding for thousands of years. But I’m gonna go. Take a break, do what Glazz says… even if Jacky hates her.”
Yet more silence followed that, though it was brief and Joelina was the first to speak again.
“Fine! In the interest of cooperation I shall let you rest. Wear the earring at all times, I shall be contacting you again soon.”
“I think I’m gonna be the judge of that. I’ll put it on when I feel like it.”
“You will do as I say!”
“You need a nap and a bit to calm down. I’ll give you three days. Around noon. See yah… How do I get this thing off?”
“I’m not telling you,” Joelina grumped like a little girl. She really didn’t seem quite like herself at all today. She had been the spitting image of restraint and arrogance before. The arrogance was still there, but the restraint had certainly gone.
“Come on, do I just try to cut off the magic or is that a bad idea?”
“If you answer a question I might answer.”
“Right then… Gimme gimme gimme aaaa-”
“JUST CUT IT! Farewell!” she called out loud enough Tom’s head pulsed and then there was blissful silence once more.
“Hehe. That did the trick, right concentrate on that funny feeling aaan-”
__________________________________________________________________________________
After dinner had been rounded up, Dakota had given a brief address as to some of the news received. There wasn’t much that hadn’t already made the rounds at the tables during the dinner itself. The war had been expanding, recruitment had started in full in the cities, and if not for the rather special situation at Bizmati they could have expected their banners to get called by spring.
Rumors had it that the kingdom was preparing itself for counterstrikes the following spring, which meant training through the winter for many volunteers.
“And a lot of not so volunteers,” Fengi muttered as Dakota carried on with the address.
“You can say that twice. At least the street rats might get something to eat and a place to sleep,” Tirox the trader escort added.
“I suppose that is true. Not a bad deal in winter time… I might even have taken it.”
“But we must instead keep our minds on our home,” Dakota carried on, talking to the whole hall. “There can be no mistake, we will be a target. We will be ready. They are getting bolder by the day it seems. It is not impossible they may attempt to take our keep before the winter comes. Or perhaps they will be waiting for spring. It is equally clear their forces are spread thin. We will weather such assaults, I have no doubt. But we must keep training. We must keep vigil. We cannot afford to be surprised or outmatched. I know you will all do your best. And tonight, we have no less than 4 dragons here. So breathe easy, have your snacks and your drinks. If the weather holds soon we will be finished with the warehouse and then we may make final preparations for winter. It is sure to be an interesting one for once.”
The hall replied with a half-discordant cheer, not overly enthusiastic unlike what Dakota had likely envisioned. The talk of them possibly getting attacked even before the snow came wasn’t really that encouraging. But Dakota tended to speak her mind, and she was probably right. Bizmati keep would be a damn tough nut to crack. And to Dakota’s credit she did seem to recognize she hadn’t really managed to rile them up.
“Didn’t you hear me?” she tried again in a slightly more humorous tone. “Eat, drink, and have fun! And put those tables together, don’t want you brooding in your corners.”
That did get a bit more of a reaction, as well as some good humored chuckles. People started getting up and set about moving the tables closer together.
It was a little rude to split up their guests in the same way as they normally did. Saph carried one of the benches over to the new spot, glancing around for any sign of Maiko, but there was no sign of him anywhere.
Feeling a little miffed, she sat down with the others as Ray came back with one of the small kegs of cider looking very excited. “We should have a taste, right?”
“Oh yes please!” Pho called out, Essy giving her a slight slap on the wrist.
“This one is only for those who paid for it. You will have to do with whatever you bought. Or the ale I’m sure they intend to serve.”
“Aww man. Not even a sip?”
“Okay, maybe a sip,” Essy relented. “Oh, I should get Koko his gift.”
“You got him a gift?” Saph questioned with mirth in her voice.
“Of course, that is what people do for each other… you did get Maiko something, right?”
Saph felt her expression slip a little as she prepared to disappoint their chief people person. “No, not really…”
“All that money and you didn’t get him shit? That’s cold girl,” Pho laughed, clearly finding it hilarious.
“Oh shut up, not as if I got something for Unkai either,” Fengi added, springing to Sapphire’s defence, though it seemed like the delivery had Fengi second guessing herself as well.
Esmeralda did look a little saddened by the news, but she was far too nice to say anything. Tirox however had no such filter.
“Oh don’t worry about it, just gotta go with a different sort of gift.” The diminutive guard laughed heartily at his joke. Udanti found it quite funny as well, and Pho certainly loved it. Bo just shook her head a little and went back to a small puzzle of some sort she had been working on, on and off, for most of the dinner by now.
“So uhm… One mug each?” Ray questioned, having been left hanging at the keg.
“Oh yes sorry, just the one, this stuff is expensive,” Saph replied, holding out her mug, Ray pushing it back down.
“One moment.” And she produced a wooden mallet and one of the metal taps. It looked like one of Raulf’s, so it was probably old as faded dragonscales.
Ray gingerly placed it against the cork and raised the mallet as the table fell silent in anticipation.
With a whack the tap went in clean with hardly a drop spilled, and Ray breathed a visible sigh of relief. “Right there we go.”
There was a quick round of cheers from the table, and Ray started pouring servings.
“Oh got yours open, have you?” the voice of Balethon came as the guard came walking up to the table, mug in hand and lizard on shoulder. “You all know we are gonna have to work out who got the better stuff, right?”
“Oh does it always have to be a competition with you, Balethon?” Saph questioned. She had just wanted to enjoy the cider.
“Look who is talking… And yeah of course we do! Just think of the bragging rights.”
Ray didn’t look too thrilled, nor did any of the girls who had actually paid for the keg. The rest of the table seemed to think it was a brilliant idea, even as Balethon’s voice carried and heads started to turn as people started to mingle between the now closely together tables.
“I’ll be the independent adjudicator!” Tirox declared, not receiving much attention as the full mugs started to get passed around. “Oh come on. I’ll be fair!”
“Shut it pipsqueak, you’ll end up taking 10 rounds of tastings before you make up your mind,” Udanti scolded, though in good humor.
“I might…” the guy relented, looking to Balethon. “Ey, by the way. Did you teach the brainlet any tricks?”
“Sure, Skitters can do a few things.”
“Aside from chasing the food?”
“You know what I think he might yeah,” Balethon replied sarcastically, gently tapping the static lizard twice on the head. The lizard didn’t do much save skitter about on his shoulder to face Balethon’s head, one eye pointing in whichever direction.
‘That thing just looks so dumb,’ Saph thought to herself as Ray handed her a mug. “Oh thank you.”
“Okay, Skitters. Up,” Balethon went, raising a claw into the air as if he wanted the lizard to jump. Or perhaps stand up. “Up… come on.”
There was no reaction from the lizard aside from it jerking to the left a bit, possibly having spotted a fly or something.
“Weeeell obedience might need some work,” Udanti chuckled. “Have you tried with some food in your hand?”
“Sure, then he just tries to eat the hand. Come on, Skitters. Up!” Balethon tried again, doing the gesture once more. And this time the little lizard jumped into the air. The little legs stretched out, taking its pitiful excuse for wings with it, and it half-fell half-glided to the floor where it hit with all the grace of a 6 year old on his first lesson. The slightly fat lizard bounced once, then rolled over twice before coming to a stop, looking around confused.
“Aaayyy! That’s a good boi,” Balethon went, going to pick it up again before someone stepped on it or it ran off under the tables. “And now you get a treat.” True to his word Skitters was fed a small piece of something or other which it seemed quite happy to snap up.
Fengi leaned in to whisper to Saph. “Was that the trick or did it just get sick of staying there?”
“I have no idea,” Saph replied, holding up her mug. “Cheers though.”
“Cheers,” Fengi replied as they clinked mugs.
“Oh hang on now, wait for me,” Essy protested as Ray finished pouring her mug and started on her own, looking to the girls as she questioned “Oh, also what about Jacky? Should we wait for her?”
“Who knows how long that will take?” Fengi replied, holding her mug impatiently.
“I’m sure she won’t mind. She is with Tom. We’ll let him have a mug as well,” Essy added with a reassuring nod, looking up to the high table. “Oh but we are missing Lin!”
“Oh right yeah she paid too… I can’t remember, did Edita chip in?”
“I don’t think so,” Sapphire replied, shaking her head as Essy got up to go fetch Linkosta. Balethon decided to take her place, a big grin on his face.
“So what else is going on over here?”
“Oh not much, hellooo little guy,” Pho went, trying to give skitters a scritching. In exchange he tried to eat her finger. “Oh… I mean I guess it doesn’t hurt.”
“Oh yeah, he can’t hurt a fly… well he can, but nothing more.”
“Shame he won’t get any bigger either,” Udanti added, nodding sagely. “Would have made a good rat hunter.”
“Nah… toe hunter though. Also where is the ale at?”
“Oh Raulf and Wiperna are getting ale and some of the bubble beer.”
“What is bubble beer?” Udanti questioned, tilting her head.
“Oh you’ll love it,” Saph interjected, waiting patiently as she saw Essy and Linkosta returning to the table out of the corner of her eye. “It’s an ale but it’s all fizzy.”
“Riiight… I’ve heard of fizzy beers before.”
“Oh yes, but this one is so much more fizzy.”
“It’s light and almost springlike.”
“Light ale? You mean for kids?”
“No no no. Just trust us it’s good.”
“Right right, I trust you,” the archer replied, looking to Essy and Linkosta, who seemed to be looking for a place to sit. “Should we not just put two end to end rather than this scrunching up business?”
“Yeah we should… Right get the craftsman table over here then. We don’t wanna have to smell the guards,” Saph called out, holding up her mug.
“Hey! That was uncalled for,” Balethon protested as Ray passed a mug to Linkosta. The girls all raised their mugs and had a sip, not willing to wait any longer. They all smacked their chops a little, looking down at the golden liquid. It was slightly fizzy too… and it tasted like the brew of the gods themselves. Ray was looking at them all visibly tense with anticipation and perhaps a twinge of fear.
“Ray… You have not disappointed,” Saph declared, nodding her approval, a smile creeping onto her face once more.
“Oh this is the best drink I think I’ve ever had,” Fengi added, taking another gentle sip.
Ray looked visibly relieved, her expression changing to one of ecstasy as she too took a sip herself. “Oh it’s even better than I remember. I’m glad you liked it.”
“Like it?! I love it!” Fengi cheers, Essy giving an appreciative nod to Ray before looking to Lin.
“Sooo?”
“It’s very good… Do you think we could try and cool it down a little? Imagine this cold.”
“It is often served cold, yes,” Ray confirmed, nodding her assent.
“I’ll go get the powder!” Saph called out, getting up. “I have got to try that.”
__________________________________________________________________________________
The strange ethereal world that had seemed so all-consuming started to quickly fade. Holes grew as light and reality started seeping in, sounds and noise starting to build around him. “Oom-Tom… Tom, are you okay?” came the familiar voice of Jacky as his eyes shot open and he blinked a few times as he returned to reality proper.
“Yeah yeah, I’m here… That is trippy, but hey, I think it worked.”
“How many fingers?” Jacky questioned, holding up her hand.
“4. Clear as day.”
“Pheeew. Okay look around, anything strange?”
Tom obeyed, sitting up a bit straighter and glancing about the room. “Nnnnn, nope all good. Just like last time I used one of these.”
“Right, good. Now what did she say?”
“Oh a bunch of stuff… mostly we chatted a bit about how she’s going a touch mad. Even Glazz thinks she’s falling apart at the seams apparently. She was also not happy I wanted a break.”
“Oh don’t tell me you have to do this every day from now on?”
“I said she had 3 days to get ready to try again. Hopefully she’ll have her case worked out by then.”
“Here’s to hoping… also how is your head? Does it hurt?”
“A bit, it’ll go away I’m sure.”
“Right,” Jacky replied, looking at him skeptically. “If it gets worse, tell me. But dinner was served a while ago I think. And I’m hungry.”
“Me too, let’s go.”
__________________________________________________________________________________
Well then, Joelina got her chat. She seems fine... I am sure she will continue to be a steadfast ally, within the walls of the inquisition for many weeks to co- I mean years, definetly years.
As always I hope you enjoyed the chapter, if not you know who to blame. I promise I won't cry to much if you tell me what was wrong... I promise.
Not really any news, other than fuck me I'm a busy boi, luckily I found the time to keep up with the writing yet, hopefully things will quet down soon so I can get back to begin a bit further ahead.
Untill next time, take care
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His ex sent me this message. Sorry it’s so long! Has anybody else gotten a similar message in the past? How did you react?
Message below: “It’s been over a year of me wondering whether I should just come out and ask you or message you… but being afraid that if I do, and I’m wrong, it’ll be a the biggest mistake of my life. I have begged and begged him to tell me what you are to him, and he denies having anything more than a platonic friendship with you.
I want to preface this message with, I have no ill will towards you, I just want some answers… answers I don’t believe I’m going to get from Jared. I don’t know if he’s mentioned anything about me. So here goes…
November 2022, I sent Jared an email, telling him I loved him, missed him, and though I didn’t require a response back, I wanted him to know how sorry I was for everything that had happened and things had ended. He responded with a lengthy email telling me he still fervently loved me and how he too was sorry for how things had ended. That email lead to the last year and a half of events.
December 2022, I drove down to Roanoke and surprised him at the Carilion garage. He left the hospital as fast as he could that night, and we spent the rest of that evening together, catching up, and he left for Key West two days later. Two weeks later, he came up to DC and we had a late birthday celebration for him at Clyde’s in Georgetown and went to see A Christmas Carol at the Ford Theater. A few weeks later we drove to Jersey to see Matchbox20, by now it was the end of January 2023. Almost every week off, for the last year, he would come up and see me, if even for only two days, or I would drive down to Roanoke and spend the week with him. We spoke about our past, the hurt, and future, he told me numerous times that when he pictured marriage and children, it was only with me, but he needed time. This part is important, and I’ll come back to it later. We celebrated my birthday at a restaurant in Navy Yard, two weeks before you guys left for London. Chris video chatted with that night while we were at the restaurant eating Wagyu, and they discussed the new shipment of sunglasses Chris had gotten for Miggieswear.
The weekend of the Super Bowl, he had come seen me earlier that week, the day after he left I came to Roanoke and left the day of the Super Bowl. He told me his parents were having a viewing party and he had to go home and cook. I’m now assuming he left my Airbnb and came to your place.
That February he planned a trip to London, with Nicole, Ryan and Chris, and what he told me were, Nicole’s “friends.” Nicole happened to post a picture of you guys sitting on the plane and I was shocked, why would Nicole’s friend be sitting between him and Ryan. I sent him a message while you were on that 6 hour flight, telling him that if he had been seeing somebody, then why didn’t he tell me? There was no point in us spending time together if he had moved on. His response to me was “do you even know what you’re looking at? I’m surprised you don’t recognize her, that’s Nicole’s friend. You’re jumping to a lot of conclusions right now and don’t know what you’re talking about.” Something in my gut didn’t believe it but I wanted to trust that, so I did. I put you out of sight, out of mind. When he got back, he told me how he wished I’d been there with him, we both love history and old buildings, it’s a place we would have found magical together. I don’t know who came up with the idea of going to London, but part of me always thinks I’m the one who put it there when I shared the pictures i had taken when I went there the year we had been no contact.
We went to a Kenny Chesney concert in Charlottesville that March when I got back from my family trip to India, and he got back from London. Between work, us both traveling with our families, we were excited to see one another. We were going to go to St Augustine, but because of the weather, we stayed in Roanoke and saw Kenny Chesney in Charlottesville. The original plan had been to spend the night in Charlottesville at a hotel, but we couldn’t get one last minute so we ended up driving back to Roanoke and sneaking into the basement at his parents house and sleeping in his bed at 3am.
A few months later, we went to Richmond, and stayed the weekend, exploring the city, and watched Hamilton at the Altria Theater. A few months after that, we went to Savannah and Atlanta, where he got a flat tire driving into the garage, and spent the rest of the weekend at a yoga retreat. July, he asked me to go to Boston with him and his brother, for 4th or July weekend, but I couldn’t because my siblings were in town. Every single week, he came down and either stayed with me, or made a quick trip to spend time with me…
This past September, I found out he took you to Justin’s wedding, and I broke. I needed more from him. I have known him, been intimate with him, shared my every fear, worry, I have brought him home cooked meals from DC and surprised him at work with dinner, I’ve made him care packages. I’ve made Ryan Easter baskets and sent him birthday presents and encouraged Jared to put him in academic classes, I’ve helped Jared look into private schools for Ryan, and weighed the pros and cons of the options. I had no expectations in return from him other than, at the very least, a mutual respect and HONESTY.
I’ve seen him quite a few times since September and I last saw him in Roanoke at the beginning of March 2024. We sat in front of each other, in his car before he went into work that Monday night, and he told me, again, that when he thinks of marriage and a future, I’m the only one he pictures a marriage and children with. I’m not saying this to hurt you, or to make a point, I’m saying it because i don’t know what to believe anymore.
I became suspicious of his relationship with you, when he mentioned going to Macchu Picchu and hiking through the mountains. As all women have the ability to find out details they might later regret, I did the same thing. Except I didn’t believe he had actually gone to Macchu Picchu. I knew his passport had been long expired since around or before COVID, and I knew he had renewed it before he went to London. But that was when I realized you were the girl in the photo that Nicole posted. When I confronted him about Macchu Picchu, he told me he had been joking and he had also already told me he’d been joking. He had NEVER told me it was a joke, he had actually refused to show me photos when I asked him for pictures from the trip… he had then proceeded to change the topic, which is what had even raised red flags in my head.
My point is, I have asked him point blank so many times whether you two have a relationship. You tell me you still love me, that you picture marriage and a family with me, but this girl is a part of your life, and you took her to a wedding with you, while I was on a trip with my siblings, you took her to London with you, and you continue to tell me she’s just a friend. I asked him again on Tuesday night/Wednesday Morning after he left work, if you two are dating, and he said no. He asked me why I’m so hyper-fixated on somebody who’s just a friend when he has a million other female friends.
In September, he told me he needed a month to clear his head, that he wanted to commit to me, but he was afraid and that he needed to get over the fear and roadblock of our past break up. I gave him grace and understood. So we took a 4 week break. Some time during that time period, he sent me a snap of doves, and said “doves, and swans mate for life.” He sent me Ed Sheeran songs telling me he wants to find his way back to me. “No Strings Attached… you are the one I love”
In November, he messaged me and told me he had a surprise for me and to look for something in the mail. He loves the Count of Monte Carlo, it’s one of his favorite movies, and he told me it was in reference to that. A few weeks later I got a candle, a silver 400 dollar Buddha candle from Thomson Ferrier. I didn’t understand the reference to the Count of Monte Carlo, but it was a beautiful gesture and present… especially because he knew how much little gestures from him mean to me.
Fast forward to January, I got another 350 dollar black skull candle from him, from Thomson Ferrier. At this point I was upset, angry and livid. I called my sister in tears that evening. I had come back to him because he told me he loved me, that he “has a fire that burns so deeply” when he thinks of me. If i had known that wasn’t true, i would have closed the chapter a year and a half ago. I don’t want $700 worth of gifts and candles, I want more. I want marriage, I want children, I want our lives to move forward, I want communication. Out of anger, I packed up the candle, his sweatshirts and clothes that he had left at my place this past year, and mailed them back to his house. I’m sure it’s sitting somewhere in his basement closet/ bedroom… along with his white Huq sweatshirt, a picture of us I had up in my house, and various articles of clothing.
What upsets me is that he didn’t just involve me this year, he involved my family. He sent my mom presents, my parents in return sent him gifts. My sister, parents and cousins messaged him asking him to come around more. There was no point in involving my family, if he was going to involve himself with you. There was no point in involving himself with me, if he was going to involve himself with you. Those leather Indian shoes sitting in his room, my dad bought those for him. That blue sweater, those green pants and that maroon shirt, my parents bought those for him just this last year.
I don’t know what he’s told you about me, but I will say this. I was your age when we started dating. I was 29 years old. He was single, that’s what everyone in our residency program thought. He would tell everyone how Shari left him one day, all of a sudden just got up and left. “I saw the look behind her eyes just change when she looked at me.” He would tell everyone his horrific dating stories. When i started dating him, there was no doubt in my mind he was single… but I was wrong. He wasn’t single, he was dating Devon, one of the nurses from Carilion, and he had been for the past 4 years prior to that. At one point when he moved to Norfolk, she had even moved in with him. Even Shari was visiting him in Norfolk during this time period. I would have never suspected it, nobody in our residency program did. It wasn’t until one day, when he told me his friends were visiting from home, and they were all going to a concert together, that I found out. Her profile picture was of the two of them together, and her Facebook relationship status said “in a relationship.” Out of my own naivety, i believed him when he told me she was crazy and obsessed with him. He told me, to him, they were just friends but she wanted more. Women do a lot of things, but no woman is dumb enough to think she’s your girlfriend when she’s not. When we moved back to our hometowns, Devon was there waiting for him. He disappeared one day for 24 hours, told me that he was helping his dad’s friend who was stranded in NC. A year and a half later, i would find out that was a lie and that he had been at a concert Florida Georgia Line concert with her. She had been visiting his grandmother with him, staying at his parents home. The irony is that a few weeks after he took her, he took me to the same concert in Scranton. Him and his family didn’t bat an eye when a month later, I showed up and was the “new girlfriend.”
Eventually Devon found out about his lies and left him, but again, stupid me thought she was a crazy girl who just wanted so badly to be with him, that she built their relationship up in her head.
Dignity, respect for humans, empathy, are the most important qualities in a human being.
What I don’t wish is for you to be in my spot in 5 years. He will paint you in his colors, make you fall in love with MB20, and take you to Augustana concerts, he’ll tell you that you understand him, and his heart in a way that nobody else does. He’ll bond with you over music, and send you songs that make you feel he’s talking about you. He is so good at making you feel seen, and involving you with his family. He’ll say he had a vision of a girl that looks like you, coming into his life, and here you are, his soul mate. And one day, the same way that Shari, Devon and I got lost in him, the reality of everything will come pouring down on you. Be careful, there are signs between the lines, and the smiles, and good times. Make sure you don’t miss those, whatever you decide.
My relationship with him, started off just like yours. Another girl on the periphery, and teetering the line of inappropriate. Everything you call him out on, will always have an excuse, and you will believe him because he’s the “good guy” who goes above and beyond for people.
I don’t wish for any woman to go through the pain I’ve gone through, the manipulation, the lies and the emotional abuse. I can’t tell you what to do, but I will say, be careful and don’t be blind to the small things that will one day become huge. The novelty will fade, and though Jared isn’t the devil, he has a lot of growing up to do at 40. It was not okay to toy with me and drag me through the mud this year. It wasn’t okay to minimize his relationship with you and lie to me about it. It’s not okay to, to this day claim to see a life with me and not commit to it. I deserve better, and you deserve better.
How men talk about their ex’s and other women is an indication about how they will one day talk about and treat you. That is the worst and best lesson i have learned. I’m 34, years of my life wasted, and he took another year of my life knowing full well, this is how it would end. He’s sat on the phone with me for hours talking about how stupid PA’s are and if you were going to not be a doctor, at least become an NP, who has better bedside knowledge. Why would he say that, because i suppose you’re a PA and it minimizes the significance of even having a relationship with somebody who isn’t as intelligent as he is. The lack of respect will always be there, you just have to look for it.
Dishonesty, and manipulation are a plague, and if that’s who you are at 40, it is who you will always be unless you recognize that something needs to change. Where there is no accountability, there can be no change. I’m not the exception, I’m the same as the two girls before me. He’ll show you text messages where he never responded to me, even though he replies on Snapchat where every thing is erased. I cannot believe i didn’t see the signs. He will make me look crazy and laugh at me, the same way he showed me messages from Jen, and Elisabeth, and Devon, and made them sound crazy to me. I guess that’s his MO. The same way he told me you were nothing to him.
I was going to send you this message, two months ago… i then decided not to because he convinced me he wasn’t dating you… I saw him less than a month ago in Roanoke, i begged him to tell me that he was in a relationship with you. He said he wasn’t, again, he told me he was going to a wedding alone with only Ryan and that he wasn’t taking you. I then begged him to tell me that we were done and that he didn’t love me anymore. His response was idk what’s going to happen a year from now, i know I’ll see you again. His response every time has been when im ready for a relationship, emotionally, do you want me to finally let you know? I don’t care to be with him anymore. I’m so over it but i really think you should know the type of person you’re dealing with.
He has put me through so much hell for a year and a half of my life, stringing me along acting like he’s doing me a favor while he works on his own mental health and claims to still love me when we are together.”
TLDR: my SO’s ex messaged me saying he’s been seeing both of us for the past year and a half. Has anybody experienced this before. She sent me pictures from the past year of them and their text exchanges

Hold your horses for a second, let me clarify a couple of things.
Im going to go through each Altaïr memory and explain why certain things support my conclusion and then explain why Altaïr may have done this.
Btw this will be a long read, so get ready.
MEMORY 1
I recommend you pull up a youtube video of all the AC Revelations Altaïr Cutscenes if you want to understand what i will be saying better.
This mission takes place before the events of AC1.
In this mission you kill a Templar who has ben pretending to be an Assassin. In the confession scene, the Templar says: "You put too much faith in the hearts of men, Altaïr. The Templars know the truth. Humans are weak, base, and petty."
Altaïr responds: "No. Our Creed is evidence to the contrary."
After the confession scene, Al Mualim says: "You offered him a chance to salvage his dignity, Why?"
Altaïr responds: "No man should pass from this world without knowing some kindness."
Al Mualim says: But he shunned your graces.
Altair responds: As was his right.
For anybody who paid attention to the story in AC1, there's a couple of MASSIVE problems with these conversations.
In these conversations Altaïr is extremely wise. He believes whole heartedly in the Assassin's Creed and seems to know who the templars are. This directly contradicts AC1, because Altaïr only learns about the templar brotherhood halfway into the game, and remember this memory takes place BEFORE AC1. In AC1 Altair was an extremely arrogant, rude and cocky man, the direct opposite of the man we see in this "memory" seal.
There are three possibilities, Either Altaïr was lying through his teeth the entire time to get that sweet master Assassin promotion from Al Mualim and somehow forgot about the templars, or he was Actually an extremely wise man who somehow became an arse between this memory and AC1 and once again somehow forgot about the templars (maybe fell on his head or something?) OR, the most likely possibility that would explain all of these inconsistencies, there is something fundamentally wrong with this memory.
Some context before i cover memory 2, it's one of the conversations during the Al Mualim fight at the end of AC1, so feel free to scross past this bit if you remember the conversation well, if you don't then read it, because it's extremely important.
During Altaïr's confrontation of Al Mualim, Altaïr says: "You lied to me, called Robert's goal foul when all along it was yours aswell."
Al Mualim says: "I've never been much good at sharing"
Altaïr says: "You won't succed, others will find the strength to stand against you."
Al Mualim says: "And this is why so long as men maintain freewill, there can be no peace."
Altaïr says: "I killed the last man who spoke as such"
Al Mualim says: "Bold words boy, but just words."
Altaïr says: "Then let me go, I'll put words into action."
All Mualim laughs
"Tell me master, why not make me like the other Assassin's, why allow me to retain my mind?"
Al Mualim says: "Who you are, and what you do are twined too tight together, to rob you of one would've deprived me of the other. And those templars had to die. sigh but the truth is, i did try, in my study, when i showed you the treasure, but are not like the others, you saw though the illustration."
Altaïr says: "Illusion?"
Al Mualim says: "That's all it's ever done, this templar treasure, this piece of eden this word of god. Do you understand now? The red sea was never parted, water never turned to wine, it was not the machinations of Eris, that spawned the trojan war, but THIS! Illusions! All of them."
Altaïr says: "What you plan is no less an Illusion, to force men to follow you against their will"
Al Mualim says: "Is it any less real than the phantoms the Saracens and Crusaders follow now? Those kraven Gods who retreat from this world that men might slaughter one another in their names? They live amongst an illusion already, im simply giving them another, one that demands less blood."
Altaïr says: "Atleast they choose these phantoms."
Al Mualim says: "Oh do they? Aside from the occasional convert or heritic?
Altaïr says: "It isn't right!"
Al Mualim says: "Ah, and now logic has left you, in it's place, you imbrace emotion, i am disappointed."
Altaïr says: "what's to be done then?"
Al Mualim says: "You will not follow me, and i cannot compell you."
Altaïr says: "And you refuse to give up this evil scheme!"
Al Mualim says: "It seems then we are at an impass."
Altaïr says: "No, we are at an end."
Al Mualim says. "Ah i will miss you Altaïr, you were my very best student."
they then fight
MEMORY 2:
In the brief AC1 "flashback," which shows brief parts of the Al Mualim fight, there is a new quote that Altaïr says after he killed Al Mualim, not present in AC1.
"Forgive me Mentor, but the apple corrupted you. And through you it would have corrupted us... for us to live, you had to die."
Later, Abbas asks him: "you believe Al Mualim fell under [The Apple's] spell?" To which Altaïr responds: "I do. Today he used the Apple to enslave Masyaf. You saw that for yourself."
Let me explain why Al Mualim WASN'T corrupted by the Apple. He was colluding with the templars before he had possession of the apple. He betrayed the templars, and sent Altaïr after them to secure the apple for himself. He knew the effects the apple had on people. We know this due to his collusion with the templars, being privy to their plans as Robert tells us, and being aware of the experments being performed to simulate the apple's effects by Garnier de Naplouse. He clearly had motive, believing that as long as men had freewill there could be no peace, which is why he probably collaborated with the templars in the first place, and he had planned this for awhile as evidenced by that conversation between him and Altaïr.
As is also evidenced by that conversation, Altaïr did not believe Al Mualim had been bewitched by the Apple by the time they were finished talking, Al Mualim was clear and direct about his plans and motivations prior to acquiring the apple during their conversation and everything he said is consistent with what robert told us. And once he no longer had the apple, during the confession scene, he doubled down on what he believed, so it's clear that in from Altaïr's perspective atleast he was of sound mind.
But all of a sudden in Revelations Altaïr is asking for forgiveness and saying the apple corrupted him? Neither of these things make sense so either Altaïr is forgetting everything that just happened, or something is wrong with this memory.
MEMORY 3 and 4:
I love these memories, but they make some changes from the AC1 Novelisation The Secret Crusade, that i really don't like, Im going to do my best to explain what happens in the novel briefly.
When Altaïr leaves to face Genghis Khan, he places Malik, his enemy turned best friend and the Rafiq of the Jerusalem Bureau, in charge of Masyaf and the Assassin's. After a few years Abbas kills Altaïr's youngest son and blames it on Malik, staging a coup, putting himself in charge, and imprisoning Malik. Altaïr returns from Asia and eventually finds Malik who tells him the truth, Malik then dies. Then Altaïr confronts Abbas and is driven out of Masyaf. When he returns to masyaf after years in exile, it isn't a random group of Assassin's he meets and immediately gets help from, it is Maliks son, also named Malik.
(Im going to call the father Malik Sr and the son Malik Jr)
The stuff with Malik Sr happened before the third mission starts, so this isn't a massive deal, im just upset it wasn't included.
Malik Jr on the other hand, as well as all of the things he does, and his conversations with Altaïr are completely gone.
Before Revelations release, this was the canon conclusion to Altaïr's story, some of Altaïr's Codex from AC2 is taken directly from this book. The book exists in the lore of Assassin's Creed.
So either the book is no longer canon, which can't be true because the codex pages from AC2 are from this book. Or, only certain parts of the book are canon (boring answer.) Or either Niccolo Polo or Altaïr are lying about the existence of Malik Jr (but y tho?) OR the memories are altered in some way.
MEMORIES 5 AND 6:
These memories are perfect, there's nothing about them i need to critique for this theory, however remember the voices that Altaïr hears in memory 6, it will be important later.
SOME EVIDENCE FROM AC MIRAGE???
let me explain what the memory seal are. They are only called "memory seals" by humans, we have no idea what the ISU would've called these devices. Altaïr found these seals below Alamut, which is where he spent his exile in the years between memories 3 and 4.
In Assassin's Creed Mirage we learn that the ISU chamber below Alamut was an ISU prison, and the seals are prison records. In Mirage we only see one of these seals, which contains a memory of Basim being tortured by "the jailer."
The Aesir, Odin, Freya, Tyr, and the other norse gods ruled what would later become Scandinavia, before the catastrophe.
Basim who now has loki's memories and personality, says at the end of AC Mirage: "i shed my skin once, in another time, another place. But i am whole again. I remember. And as for those who thought to bind me, should any of them still walk the earth, i so look forward to our reunion."
This indicates to me, that Basim was imprisoned by Odin and friends, and the prison must belong to them, meaning that Iran was also under Aesir control? i suppose? Modern AC has kinda screwed the continuity but i digress.
This means that this prison, which had clear prisoner mistreatment, to the point that it gave loki, and likely many others PTSD and probably far worse problems was being ran by a dictatorship (with Odin being the dictator.)
Now what im about to say is pure speculation, so take it with a grain of salt.
These "memory" seals can probably be tampered with by the people in power in order to make up false confessions and maintain control over whatever narrative they want people to believe and by extention, the people.
The templars use the animus to record memories, but then release "inhanced" versions of these memories to the public, like with the abstergo entertainment game "Liberation." Assassin's Creed Liberation is literally an in universe game made by Abstergo. In the game a hacker will reveal to you how to unlock the true ending, the true version of a memory that was altered by abstergo. So is it really so far fetched to claim that the ISU were capable of doing something similar to this with their seals?
In the last two Altaïr memories, and the memory in Mirage, Altaïr and the Jailer are both using the seals as the memory is being recorded. However, in the first four memories Altaïr doesn't have the seals.
He had obtained them by the time we get to the fourth one, but it's unclear if he had them on him, and if he did, whether or not he was live recording the memory, however due to the inconsistencies in that memory and the fact we dont see him hold one in that memory i don't believe he did.
CONCLUSION:
As I've pointed out there are several issues with the continuity of these memories and AC1, AC2 and The Secret Crusade book. All of these issues are solved if we accept that the first four seals are not accurate memories.
Okay, but what's the reason they aren't accurate then?
There's two possibilities.
Firstly in Altaïr's old age he is misremembering important details of these older memories, which is why the later, more recent memories are more accurate. We know Altaïr is literally hearing voices by the time we get to his last memory, so is it really far fetched to suggest he may have a touch of dementia?
The second possibility, is that Altaïr has intentionally manipulated these memories.
The first question you might ask is, how would he even do that? Well I'll answer your question with another one: How do you even record a memory on a seal in the first place? I mean there's no buttons or instruction manual. I think both of these questions have the same answer, either the apple told him, or he figured it out.
Ok, so it's possible that if these seals can be manipulated like you claim, then Altaïr would easily learn how, i mean the apple showed him how to make a glock, so it's likely, but, erm, buckaroo, WHY WOULD ALTAÏR MANIPULATE THESE MEMORIES??? The answer is simple.
The first memory teaches compassion for all humans.
The second one teaches that the Apple can corrupt a man even as wise as Al Mualim.
The fourth one teaches that rousing the people to help achieve your goals will always work better than trying to do it alone.
These are the memories with the most inconsistencies, and this is because these memories have been altered in order to teach whatever future Assassin that finds them the lessons they will need to lead a Brotherhood. These lessons are ones Ezio has already learned by the time he finds them, so for him they are more about reflecting on his own life. It's also worth noting that Ezio taught many of Altaïr's lessons to Shao Jun.
I've wrote this in my notes app so apologies if the formatting isn't the best. Btw i came up with this myself, to my knowledge nobody has posted a theory similar to this. If you want to use my theory message me or something to tell me :) Im going to turn this into a video tommorow anyways, credit is appreciated.
So there you have it, thats my evidence, and that's my conclusion, what do ya'll think?

His ex sent me this message, should I believe it? I don’t know what to do. Sorry the message is really long!
“It’s been over a year of me wondering whether I should just come out and ask you or message you… but being afraid that if I do, and I’m wrong, it’ll be a the biggest mistake of my life. I have begged and begged him to tell me what you are to him, and he denies having anything more than a platonic friendship with you.
I want to preface this message with, I have no ill will towards you, I just want some answers… answers I don’t believe I’m going to get from Jared. I don’t know if he’s mentioned anything about me. So here goes…
November 2022, I sent Jared an email, telling him I loved him, missed him, and though I didn’t require a response back, I wanted him to know how sorry I was for everything that had happened and things had ended. He responded with a lengthy email telling me he still fervently loved me and how he too was sorry for how things had ended. That email lead to the last year and a half of events.
December 2022, I drove down to Roanoke and surprised him at the Carilion garage. He left the hospital as fast as he could that night, and we spent the rest of that evening together, catching up, and he left for Key West two days later. Two weeks later, he came up to DC and we had a late birthday celebration for him at Clyde’s in Georgetown and went to see A Christmas Carol at the Ford Theater. A few weeks later we drove to Jersey to see Matchbox20, by now it was the end of January 2023. Almost every week off, for the last year, he would come up and see me, if even for only two days, or I would drive down to Roanoke and spend the week with him. We spoke about our past, the hurt, and future, he told me numerous times that when he pictured marriage and children, it was only with me, but he needed time. This part is important, and I’ll come back to it later. We celebrated my birthday at a restaurant in Navy Yard, two weeks before you guys left for London. Chris video chatted with that night while we were at the restaurant eating Wagyu, and they discussed the new shipment of sunglasses Chris had gotten for Miggieswear.
The weekend of the Super Bowl, he had come seen me earlier that week, the day after he left I came to Roanoke and left the day of the Super Bowl. He told me his parents were having a viewing party and he had to go home and cook. I’m now assuming he left my Airbnb and came to your place.
That February he planned a trip to London, with Nicole, Ryan and Chris, and what he told me were, Nicole’s “friends.” Nicole happened to post a picture of you guys sitting on the plane and I was shocked, why would Nicole’s friend be sitting between him and Ryan. I sent him a message while you were on that 6 hour flight, telling him that if he had been seeing somebody, then why didn’t he tell me? There was no point in us spending time together if he had moved on. His response to me was “do you even know what you’re looking at? I’m surprised you don’t recognize her, that’s Nicole’s friend. You’re jumping to a lot of conclusions right now and don’t know what you’re talking about.” Something in my gut didn’t believe it but I wanted to trust that, so I did. I put you out of sight, out of mind. When he got back, he told me how he wished I’d been there with him, we both love history and old buildings, it’s a place we would have found magical together. I don’t know who came up with the idea of going to London, but part of me always thinks I’m the one who put it there when I shared the pictures i had taken when I went there the year we had been no contact.
We went to a Kenny Chesney concert in Charlottesville that March when I got back from my family trip to India, and he got back from London. Between work, us both traveling with our families, we were excited to see one another. We were going to go to St Augustine, but because of the weather, we stayed in Roanoke and saw Kenny Chesney in Charlottesville. The original plan had been to spend the night in Charlottesville at a hotel, but we couldn’t get one last minute so we ended up driving back to Roanoke and sneaking into the basement at his parents house and sleeping in his bed at 3am.
A few months later, we went to Richmond, and stayed the weekend, exploring the city, and watched Hamilton at the Altria Theater. A few months after that, we went to Savannah and Atlanta, where he got a flat tire driving into the garage, and spent the rest of the weekend at a yoga retreat. July, he asked me to go to Boston with him and his brother, for 4th or July weekend, but I couldn’t because my siblings were in town. Every single week, he came down and either stayed with me, or made a quick trip to spend time with me…
This past September, I found out he took you to Justin’s wedding, and I broke. I needed more from him. I have known him, been intimate with him, shared my every fear, worry, I have brought him home cooked meals from DC and surprised him at work with dinner, I’ve made him care packages. I’ve made Ryan Easter baskets and sent him birthday presents and encouraged Jared to put him in academic classes, I’ve helped Jared look into private schools for Ryan, and weighed the pros and cons of the options. I had no expectations in return from him other than, at the very least, a mutual respect and HONESTY.
I’ve seen him quite a few times since September and I last saw him in Roanoke at the beginning of March 2024. We sat in front of each other, in his car before he went into work that Monday night, and he told me, again, that when he thinks of marriage and a future, I’m the only one he pictures a marriage and children with. I’m not saying this to hurt you, or to make a point, I’m saying it because i don’t know what to believe anymore.
I became suspicious of his relationship with you, when he mentioned going to Macchu Picchu and hiking through the mountains. As all women have the ability to find out details they might later regret, I did the same thing. Except I didn’t believe he had actually gone to Macchu Picchu. I knew his passport had been long expired since around or before COVID, and I knew he had renewed it before he went to London. But that was when I realized you were the girl in the photo that Nicole posted. When I confronted him about Macchu Picchu, he told me he had been joking and he had also already told me he’d been joking. He had NEVER told me it was a joke, he had actually refused to show me photos when I asked him for pictures from the trip… he had then proceeded to change the topic, which is what had even raised red flags in my head.
My point is, I have asked him point blank so many times whether you two have a relationship. You tell me you still love me, that you picture marriage and a family with me, but this girl is a part of your life, and you took her to a wedding with you, while I was on a trip with my siblings, you took her to London with you, and you continue to tell me she’s just a friend. I asked him again on Tuesday night/Wednesday Morning after he left work, if you two are dating, and he said no. He asked me why I’m so hyper-fixated on somebody who’s just a friend when he has a million other female friends.
In September, he told me he needed a month to clear his head, that he wanted to commit to me, but he was afraid and that he needed to get over the fear and roadblock of our past break up. I gave him grace and understood. So we took a 4 week break. Some time during that time period, he sent me a snap of doves, and said “doves, and swans mate for life.” He sent me Ed Sheeran songs telling me he wants to find his way back to me. “No Strings Attached… you are the one I love”
In November, he messaged me and told me he had a surprise for me and to look for something in the mail. He loves the Count of Monte Carlo, it’s one of his favorite movies, and he told me it was in reference to that. A few weeks later I got a candle, a silver 400 dollar Buddha candle from Thomson Ferrier. I didn’t understand the reference to the Count of Monte Carlo, but it was a beautiful gesture and present… especially because he knew how much little gestures from him mean to me.
Fast forward to January, I got another 350 dollar black skull candle from him, from Thomson Ferrier. At this point I was upset, angry and livid. I called my sister in tears that evening. I had come back to him because he told me he loved me, that he “has a fire that burns so deeply” when he thinks of me. If i had known that wasn’t true, i would have closed the chapter a year and a half ago. I don’t want $700 worth of gifts and candles, I want more. I want marriage, I want children, I want our lives to move forward, I want communication. Out of anger, I packed up the candle, his sweatshirts and clothes that he had left at my place this past year, and mailed them back to his house. I’m sure it’s sitting somewhere in his basement closet/ bedroom… along with his white Huq sweatshirt, a picture of us I had up in my house, and various articles of clothing.
What upsets me is that he didn’t just involve me this year, he involved my family. He sent my mom presents, my parents in return sent him gifts. My sister, parents and cousins messaged him asking him to come around more. There was no point in involving my family, if he was going to involve himself with you. There was no point in involving himself with me, if he was going to involve himself with you. Those leather Indian shoes sitting in his room, my dad bought those for him. That blue sweater, those green pants and that maroon shirt, my parents bought those for him just this last year.
I don’t know what he’s told you about me, but I will say this. I was your age when we started dating. I was 29 years old. He was single, that’s what everyone in our residency program thought. He would tell everyone how Shari left him one day, all of a sudden just got up and left. “I saw the look behind her eyes just change when she looked at me.” He would tell everyone his horrific dating stories. When i started dating him, there was no doubt in my mind he was single… but I was wrong. He wasn’t single, he was dating Devon, one of the nurses from Carilion, and he had been for the past 4 years prior to that. At one point when he moved to Norfolk, she had even moved in with him. Even Shari was visiting him in Norfolk during this time period. I would have never suspected it, nobody in our residency program did. It wasn’t until one day, when he told me his friends were visiting from home, and they were all going to a concert together, that I found out. Her profile picture was of the two of them together, and her Facebook relationship status said “in a relationship.” Out of my own naivety, i believed him when he told me she was crazy and obsessed with him. He told me, to him, they were just friends but she wanted more. Women do a lot of things, but no woman is dumb enough to think she’s your girlfriend when she’s not. When we moved back to our hometowns, Devon was there waiting for him. He disappeared one day for 24 hours, told me that he was helping his dad’s friend who was stranded in NC. A year and a half later, i would find out that was a lie and that he had been at a concert Florida Georgia Line concert with her. She had been visiting his grandmother with him, staying at his parents home. The irony is that a few weeks after he took her, he took me to the same concert in Scranton. Him and his family didn’t bat an eye when a month later, I showed up and was the “new girlfriend.”
Eventually Devon found out about his lies and left him, but again, stupid me thought she was a crazy girl who just wanted so badly to be with him, that she built their relationship up in her head.
Dignity, respect for humans, empathy, are the most important qualities in a human being.
What I don’t wish is for you to be in my spot in 5 years. He will paint you in his colors, make you fall in love with MB20, and take you to Augustana concerts, he’ll tell you that you understand him, and his heart in a way that nobody else does. He’ll bond with you over music, and send you songs that make you feel he’s talking about you. He is so good at making you feel seen, and involving you with his family. He’ll say he had a vision of a girl that looks like you, coming into his life, and here you are, his soul mate. And one day, the same way that Shari, Devon and I got lost in him, the reality of everything will come pouring down on you. Be careful, there are signs between the lines, and the smiles, and good times. Make sure you don’t miss those, whatever you decide.
My relationship with him, started off just like yours. Another girl on the periphery, and teetering the line of inappropriate. Everything you call him out on, will always have an excuse, and you will believe him because he’s the “good guy” who goes above and beyond for people.
I don’t wish for any woman to go through the pain I’ve gone through, the manipulation, the lies and the emotional abuse. I can’t tell you what to do, but I will say, be careful and don’t be blind to the small things that will one day become huge. The novelty will fade, and though Jared isn’t the devil, he has a lot of growing up to do at 40. It was not okay to toy with me and drag me through the mud this year. It wasn’t okay to minimize his relationship with you and lie to me about it. It’s not okay to, to this day claim to see a life with me and not commit to it. I deserve better, and you deserve better.
How men talk about their ex’s and other women is an indication about how they will one day talk about and treat you. That is the worst and best lesson i have learned. I’m 34, years of my life wasted, and he took another year of my life knowing full well, this is how it would end. He’s sat on the phone with me for hours talking about how stupid PA’s are and if you were going to not be a doctor, at least become an NP, who has better bedside knowledge. Why would he say that, because i suppose you’re a PA and it minimizes the significance of even having a relationship with somebody who isn’t as intelligent as he is. The lack of respect will always be there, you just have to look for it.
Dishonesty, and manipulation are a plague, and if that’s who you are at 40, it is who you will always be unless you recognize that something needs to change. Where there is no accountability, there can be no change. I’m not the exception, I’m the same as the two girls before me. He’ll show you text messages where he never responded to me, even though he replies on Snapchat where every thing is erased. I cannot believe i didn’t see the signs. He will make me look crazy and laugh at me, the same way he showed me messages from Jen, and Elisabeth, and Devon, and made them sound crazy to me. I guess that’s his MO. The same way he told me you were nothing to him.
I was going to send you this message, two months ago… i then decided not to because he convinced me he wasn’t dating you… I saw him less than a month ago in Roanoke, i begged him to tell me that he was in a relationship with you. He said he wasn’t, again, he told me he was going to a wedding alone with only Ryan and that he wasn’t taking you. I then begged him to tell me that we were done and that he didn’t love me anymore. His response was idk what’s going to happen a year from now, i know I’ll see you again. His response every time has been when im ready for a relationship, emotionally, do you want me to finally let you know? I don’t care to be with him anymore. I’m so over it but i really think you should know the type of person you’re dealing with.
He has put me through so much hell for a year and a half of my life, stringing me along acting like he’s doing me a favor while he works on his own mental health and claims to still love me when we are together.”

I don't normally post my work because most of my time is spent between an IDE and a stack trace, but I've arrived at a milestone where I thought it might be worthwhile to share a bit of the process up to this point.
I'm using Unreal Engine with C++. I haven't used any blueprints or third party libraries (outside UE) for anything.
The game will be a 2.5d adventure game (Terraria would be a fair comparison, just to give a more clear idea.) My original plan was to create a procedural mesh that could be deformed by digging or impacts/explosions. Think of it as being like a tuna can on its side, and this ended up being my very first prototype object for the game:
Tuna can from the front. Being my first mesh displayed in the Unreal Editor, I was quite proud of it so I shared it on social media and even though I described it, the only response was from someone asking, "What am I looking at?" That's when I learned that just because it's interesting and exciting for me doesn't mean anyone else cares.
Tuna can from the back showing the mesh structure. This is more significant than the front view, because it shows more of what's happening. The plan was to generate concentric circles and then stitch them together into a mesh, so that's what I did. The main issue was figuring out how to arrange it so that the mesh I made was as close to uniform as possible because wonky triangles will always look like wonky triangles.
This is what followed after more work and a couple of hard lessons about floating point precision errors. The two main differences between this mesh and the previous one is that this one is 2d. I didn't need to worry about pushing it into the 3d space because I was only testing the formation of the face mesh. The circular mesh in this image represents a fully procedurally generated mesh with uniform segments that could be scaled to any size just by changing a number or two in the code.
The trouble with procedurally generated meshes is that generating them is only the first part. If you want to edit them in real-time, like in a game, it gets very heavy very fast. Lots of math, lots of testing, endless edge cases. Given the time I had already spent generating these procedural circles, I decided pushing forward was going to be a slog and I didn't think the ends were going to justify the means, so for the terrain I decided to go with a voxel system.
There are some voxel tools for Unreal but I didn't find anything that called to me, so I decided to do it myself. First thing I did was spin up another prototype, this time generating a circle out of squares.
This was the result. Much easier to put together than the circular mesh, but not without limitations. I'm going to have to be careful about how I manage the size of blocks, for example, otherwise there will be certain parts of the world that will seem very jagged because you'll be walking on the edges of the cubes instead of the faces. Nevertheless, those are problems with solutions for another time.
Around this time, things started to go all internal. Lots of work, nothing to show for it. Setting up a custom quadtree, for example, that will be used to indicate to the client what chunks it needs to render in order to present the current area around the player character, and then to update itself as the camera moves to make sure the needed chunks are always available for display. That took a while. Setting up the internal representation of the voxels and chunks took a while.
And learning to spot toolchain errors takes a while. I once lost two weeks trying to track down an infuriating "bug" that wasn't a bug...it was the IDE/plugin/editor that broke and started throwing errors that didn't actually exist. Once you learn how to spot it, it's a nuisance. Before you learn how to spot it, it's soul crushing.
So I made this hand-coded star. I call it, "A Glimmer of Hope" and it's the root component for the world. All of the other chunks that are being displayed are attached to that root component.
Eventually things started to come together. A few complete re-writes took place (usually triggered by the previously mentioned phantom bug) but helped me practice my programming skills and refine the work a little more.
Just in the last week or two, the core of the voxel engine finally came together. This was the first screenshot I thought to take. It's pretty ugly, but it's not about being pretty at this point. There's a little test '+' symbol hiding in there, and then a low-res voxel sphere that is clipping outside the world boundary. That was a deliberate test because I had to be sure that the system would correctly handle the parts that fell out of bounds. If you're familiar with the process of greedy meshing, you should be able to recognize it here. The chunks in this example are only 4 blocks wide (because it's just a test), and the greedy meshing doesn't extend to adjacent chunks, which is why you see the shapes that you do.
And then finally, by simply changing the values that indicate the sphere's position, and the values indicating the size of the voxels and chunks, I got this:
https://imgur.com/tdkzKC7
In the bottom left you can see the test '+' symbol again, and in the top right is another test shape that you couldn't see before because the sphere was covering it. And in the middle, a fairly convincing rendition of a voxel sphere. For reference, that sphere has a diameter of 65 blocks (a Minecraft chunk is 64 blocks wide). I haven't done any specific timed tests, but early tests show that it is fairly quick to build, mesh, and display the sphere. I have a lot of debugging output to remove before I can do time trials.
What's Next?
While taking the last screenshot, I noticed a couple of artifacts that I'll have to fix. Other than that, next steps will be to get materials working properly on the mesh. Then I'll be doing the actual world sculpting, which will be using noise generators and modifying some of the tools I've already made to give the world a more natural looking appearance.
After that is generating nav maps, and then finally the fluid simulation. Somewhere in there I'm sure I'll be able to finally start prototyping some basic gameplay, but I'm trying not to get too far ahead of myself.
If you're not impressed or interested by any of this, that's cool. I wasn't trying to impress anyone. I just thought it might be useful to demonstrate a bit of the process. I'm pretty determined to see this one through, and I'm hoping it will start to look like something before the end of the year.
Cheers!
(I have a Steam page but it's not set up, and won't be until I have a playable demo. I also don't have a Discord and don't care to. I'll start marketing when I have something to market. In the meantime, if there's anything worth sharing for informational purposes, I'll just post it here.)

Previous thread
This is the weekly translation status update thread. Use this thread to discuss translation news, issues, titles you're looking forward to, etc.
Note: This is simply a mirror from 4chan's weekly thread on the /jp/ board. All credit goes to the user VNTS there. I'm simply copying and pasting for discussion sake here since some people can't access 4chan.
Entries in Bold have had changes since last week
Entries in itallics denote my own changes

Fan Translations

• 12RIVEN -the Ψcliminal of integral- - 42% translated
• Aiyoku No Eustia - In progress 100% TL patch leaked, project to continue, 100% Translated/edited/TLC
• Akatsuki no Goei ~Principal-tachi no Kyuujitsu~ - 100% translated and edited, 70.11% through QA
• Akatsuki no Goei ~Tsumibukaki Shuumatsuron~ - 100% translated, 41,122 lines edited (67.64%), 4,508 (7.42%) through QA
• Axanael - "Overwhelming majority" of the text translated, including the main story, some side content remains, in need of editing
• CHAOS;HEAD Love Chu Chu! - 70.54% translated, 22.70% edited
• CHAOS;CHILD Love Chu Chu!! - 100% translated, 55.30% edited
• Chusingura 46+1 - 36455/82770 (44.04%) lines translated, Kuranosuke route partial patch released
• Dragon Knight 4 - 60% translated, playtesting also ongoing
• Fate/Stay Night - Partial patch released with a new translation for Fate/UBW/9 days of HF
• Haruka na Sora - Sora and Yahiro routes translated, Kozue 75% translated, Sora 90% edited
• Honoo no Haramase Oppai Nyuu Doukyuusei ~Oppai mo Haramase! New Class Zen'in Harama-sensation!~ - Picked up, porting to Ren'Py
• If My Heart Had Wings: Snow Presents - 100% translated, 100% edited
• Jisatsu no Tame no 101 no Houhou - 17% translated
• Junketsu Megami-Sama - 2nd Alpha patch released, Astarotte route finishing up
• Kaseki no Uta - 100% translated, 4770/15389 (31%) edited
• Ken ga Kimi - 58% translated
• Koukan no Toriko-Tachi - Prologue, common, and Cuckold Play route translated, Swinging Route 35%, Yukari POV 40%
• Kud Wafter - AA Version 23,835/31,579 (75.5%) Lines translated, 18+ Version 19,240 / 33,113 (58.1%) lines translated
• Kusarihime ~Euthanasia~ - Translation finished, fully edited
• Lover Able - 100% translated and edited, 9419/32258 lines approved (29.47%)
• Lucky Star ~Ryouou Gakuen Outousai~ - episode 1 patch released
• Maji de Watashi ni Koishinasai! A - Ryouken Route After - 1942/3,494 (55.58%) lines translated
• Maji de Watashi ni Koishinasai! A Plus Disk - Preparing files
• Manakashi no Yuri wa Akaku Somaru - 66% translated
• Miagete Goran, Yozora no Hoshi o - 1 of 4 routes translation finished for the restoration patch, Houkiboshi Hika 2 of 4 H-scenes translated
• Mujou no Erasmus - The Erasmus two-faced stories - Released
• Nursery Rhyme - 100% translated and edited, text insertion 100% complete, testing ongoing
• Pure Pure - 100% translated, needs proofreading, partial patch released, all routes have been inserted
• Sakura no Uta - Chapter I 30% translated
• Sakura No Toki - 9.42% translated, 8.55% edited
• Sakura Wars 2 - Demo patch released, ADV, Battle, and "Long Day in the Theater" mode fully translated, disc 1 text inserted
• Sen no Hatou, Tsukisome no Kouki - Both original and fan disc 100% translated, in need of editing
• Shirotsume Yubiwa - 100% translated, 50% beta patch released
• Shizuku - 120/197 script files translated, 20/197 edited
• Taima Seiko Alice - 40% translated, 35% edited, 35% proofread, 1st partial patch out
• Tenshi no Inai 12-gatsu - 100% translated, Editing ongoing
• To Heart - 720/993 scripts translated, 200/993 edited
• Tokimeki Memorial 2 - Being translated
• Tokimeki Memorial Girls Side 4 - 55% translated
• Tsui no Sora Remake - 100% translated and edited, finalization progressing
• Umi kara Kuru Mono - 91/138 scripts translated
• Ushinawareta Mirai o Motomete - 22325/35416 (63.0%) lines translated
• Yosuga no Sora - Translation finished, editing and TLC ongoing, Total: TL 100% TLC 71% ED 55%, Common/Kazuha/Motoka/Sora routes fully edited

Official work

MangaGamer

• The Pillagers of Raillore - Out of Beta
• Ciconia - Phase 1 Released
• Hadaka Shitsuji fandisc - Picked up
• Rance 03 - 79% translated, 41% edited
• Rance X - 94% translated, 5% edited
• Luckydog1 - 100% translated and edited
• Funbag Fantasy 4 - 84% translated, 80% edited
• Eve of the 12th Month - 100% translated and 88% edited
• DEAD DAYS - 100% translated and edited
• Beat Valkyrie Ixseal - 88% translated and 81% edited
• Welcome to a Sexy, Open World - 98% translated and 90% edited

JAST

• Sisters: Last Day of Summer - June 3rd release
• Sumaga- Slow progress ongoing
• Katahane - Progress being made again
• Django - Not actively making progress
• Tokyo Hero Project - Translation finished, dealing with bugs
• Machine Child - Still being developed
• Yomegami: My Sweet Goddess - 100% translated
• Yamizome Liberator - Picked up
• Mojika: Truth Rears Its Ugly Head - Picked up
• Djibril - 100% translated, in editing
• Masquerade: Hell Academy - Through 1st QA pass, in 2nd QA pass

Sekai/Denpa

• Happy Saint Sheol - 100% edited, 40% QA, Demo released
• Harumade Kururu - Waiting on build
• Rewrite+ Harvest Festa - 100% translated, 40% edited, Steam page up, 2024 release
• Subete no Koi ni, Hanabata o. - 50% translated
• Sumire - Picked up
• Sanarara R - 100% translated and edited, waiting on build
• Glass - Picked up
• New Glass - Picked up
• Karakara 3 - 100% translated and edited, 70% engine work
• Yume to Iro de Dekiteiru - 100% translated, 35% edited
• Zutto Mae Kara Joshi Deshita - 100% translated, in editing
• Chiisana Kanojo no Serenade - 75% translated, 35% edited
• Hoshizora e Kakaru Hashi 10% translated
• Hoshizora e Kakaru Hashi AA - Announced
• Akaneiro ni Somaru Saka - 50% translated
• Hamidashi Creative - Announced
• Inupara - In Development
• Nekopara After La Vraie Familie - In Development
• Raspberry Cube - Announced
• NEKO-NIN exHeart SPIN - 100% translated and edited, waiting on build

Nekonyan

• Angel Chaos RE-BOOT!- Delayed after Steam rejection
• Dracu Riot - Waiting on Build, Release date announcement on hold until after Angel Chaos
• Melty Moment - 80% translated
• Fureraba Complete edition - Vita exclusive content to be added to Fureraba a couple months after the fandisc release
• Floral Flowlove - 100% translated, 70% edited, enging port ongoing
• Kakenuke Seishun Sparking - 80% translated, 70% edited, QA started
• Love, Elections, & Chocolate - 100% translated and edited, Engine port nearly finished, entering QA shortly
• Love Love Love, Burning in my Heart! - 100% translated and 74% edited
• Ready or Not: The Deadline is Coming! - 100% translated, 99% edited, waiting on build
• Mysteries of the Heart: The Psychic Detective Case Files - 100% translated and edited, engine work in progress
• Secret Project 2 - 100% translated and edited, queued for Unity port
• Secret Project 3 - 100% translated and edited, 50% though QA

PQube

• SINce Memories: Off the Starry Sky - Announced

VisualArts

• Summer Pockets Reflection Blue - 2024 release

Dualtail

• Venus Blood Ragnarok - Kickstarter starting in May

Frontwing

• Lilja and Natsuka: Painting Lies - July 25th release
• Revue Starlight El Dorado - August 8th release
• Everlasting Flowers - August 29th release date
• Sharin no Kuni - Working to resolve remaining issues

Aksys

• Radiant Tale -Fanfare- - June 27th release
• Tales from Toyotoki: Arrival of the Witch - Summer release
• Virche Evermore -EpiC: Lycoris- - Fall release
• Despera Drops - 2025 release

Age titles

• Kiminozo - Aiming for a Summer 2024 release

Fakku

• Two Beasts Or Not To Beast!! - 2.0 version, editing in progress
• Forbidden Ward - In Pre-Production

Saikey Studios (mix of official/unofficial)

• Yaricir Kanojo ~Seiso de Yasashii Kanojo wa Yaricir no Hime Deshita~ - Released
• The Reason For Your Smile - Steam page up, Happy and NTR routes translated
• Toaru Hahaoya no Ayamachi ~Yukari Hen~ - 50% translated

HyoukanOpera

• Knight Case Files - Trial released, upcoming release

MAGES. GAME

• Corpse Party II - Darkness Distortion - 2024 release

Voltage Inc.

• Project Code Kaleido Tower - 2024 release
• Project Code Neon Mafia - 2024 release
• Project Code Vampire Hunter - 2025 release

B-cluster

• Re;quartz Raid - 2024 release

MediBang Inc.

• Cocktail Magic - Upcoming release

Kamitsubaki Studio

• KAMITSUBAKI CITY REGENERATE - Upcoming release

Dayu Zixun

• Voice Love on Air - Upcoming release

moesoft

• Devil Girl - Released

Shiravune

• AMANATSU ~Perfect Edition~ - May 17th release
• Destiny Star Girlfriend 2 - Q2 2024 release
• Real Hentai Situation! 2 - 2024 release
• NYO-NIN-JIMA -My New Life in Charge of a Tropical Island- - 2024 release
• Kara no Shoujo III - Announced
• Sacrifice Villains - Announced

Kagura Games

• Forsaken Quartet - May 18th release
• Yoru ga Kuru! -Square of the Moon- Remastered - 2024 release
• Angel Tear: Goddess Betrayed - Upcoming release

Aniplex

• Tsukihime -A piece of blue glass moon- - June 27th release
• Fate/stay night REMASTERED - 2024 release
• Hookah Haze - 2024 release
• Tanetsumi no Uta - 2024 release

Spike Chunsoft

• The Quintessential Quintuplets: Memories of a Quintessential Summer - Announced
• The Quintessential Quintuplets: Five Memories Spent With You - Announced

Love Lab

• Ever Maiden - 2024 release

DLsite

• Friendly lab - unlock(); - Upcoming release
• Club Suicide - Picked up

Idea Factory

• Cupid Parasite: Sweet and Spicy Darling - May 28th release
• 9 R.I.P. - Fall 2024 release
• Date A Live: Ren Dystopia - 2024 release

CRAFTWORK

• Geminism - English version announced

Harukaze

• Monkeys! - English release planned

Moonchime

• Haunted Obachestra Vol.1 Awaking - Upcoming release

Alice In Dissonance

• Fault Milestone 2 - Side Below - Upcoming release

G-mode

• Shinjuku Soumei - Demo Released, May 24th release

MiKandi Japan

• Libra of the Vampire Princess - All versions of the patches in testing

PRODUCTION PENCIL

• Paradise Cleaning! -Tutor X Hypnosis- - Upcoming release

072 Project

• Princess Paradise - 2024 release

F&C

• NTR with hypnosis application - Upcoming release

Eroge Japan

• Trap Yuri Garden - 2024 release

Tensei Games

• Unfaithful Wife: Ayano's "Netorare Report" - My gentle wife is fucking another man - - Q2 2024 release

GRAVITY GAME ARISE

• Tokyo Psychodemic - Demo released, May 30th release

Dark Nyaa

• Master & Succubi Hentai Lessons 2 - April release

MintLip

• Him, the Smile & Bloom - August 8th release

Cherry Kiss

• Cosplay Cumdump: Doing it Doujin Style - May 23rd release

This is the weekly translation status update thread. Use this thread to discuss translation news, issues, titles you're looking forward to, etc.
Note: This is simply a mirror from 4chan's weekly thread on the /jp/ board. All credit goes to the user VNTS there. Entries in Bold have had changes since last week
Fan Translations

• 12RIVEN -the Ψcliminal of integral- - 42% translated
  
• Aikano ~Yukizora no Triangle~ - Common Route translated
  
• Aiyoku No Eustia - In progress 100% TL patch leaked, project to continue, 100% Translated/edited/TLC
  
• Akatsuki no Goei ~Principal-tachi no Kyuujitsu~ - 100% translated and edited, 70.11% through QA
  
• Akatsuki no Goei ~Tsumibukaki Shuumatsuron~ - 100% translated, 41,122 lines edited (67.64%), 4,508 (7.42%) through QA
  
• Axanael - "Overwhelming majority" of the text translated, including the main story, some side content remains, in need of editing
  
• CHAOS;HEAD Love Chu Chu! - 70.54% translated, 22.70% edited
  
• CHAOS;CHILD Love Chu Chu!! - 100% translated, 55.30% edited
  
• Chicchakunai Mon - 100% translated and 39.5% edited
  
• Chusingura 46+1 - 36455/82770 (44.04%) lines translated, Kuranosuke route partial patch released
  
• Deatte 5-fun wa Ore no Mono! Jikan Teishi to Atropos - Common Route patch released
  
• Dragon Knight 4 - 60% translated, playtesting also ongoing
  
• Fate/Stay Night - Partial patch released with a new translation for Fate/UBW/9 days of HF
  
• Enrenchuu no Toshishita Kanojo ga Onna ni Ueta Osuzaru-domo no Gakuen de Koubi Aite ni Sareteta. - 10% translated
  
• Haruka na Sora - Sora and Yahiro routes translated, Kozue 75% translated, Sora 90% edited
  
• Honoo no Haramase Oppai Nyuu Doukyuusei ~Oppai mo Haramase! New Class Zen'in Harama-sensation!~ - Picked up, porting to Ren'Py
  
• If My Heart Had Wings: Snow Presents - 100% translated, 100% edited
  
• Jisatsu no Tame no 101 no Houhou - 17% translated
  
• Junketsu Megami-Sama - 2nd Alpha patch released, Astarotte route finishing up
  
• Kaseki no Uta - 100% translated, 4770/15389 (31%) edited
  
• Ken ga Kimi - 58% translated
  
• Koukan no Toriko-Tachi - Prologue, common, and Cuckold Play route translated, Swinging Route 35%, Yukari POV 40%
  
• Kud Wafter AA Version - 23,835/31,579 (75.5%) Lines translated, 18+ Version 19,240 / 33,113 (58.1) lines translated
  
• Kusarihime ~Euthanasia~ - Translation finished, fully edited
  
• Lover Able - 100% translated and edited, 9419/32258 lines approved (29.47%)
  
• Lucky Star ~Ryouou Gakuen Outousai~ - episode 1 patch released
  
• Maji de Watashi ni Koishinasai! A - Ryouken Route After - 1942/3,494 (55.58%) lines translated
  
• Maji de Watashi ni Koishinasai! A Plus Disk - Preparing files
  
• Manakashi no Yuri wa Akaku Somaru - 66% translated
  
• Miagete Goran, Yozora no Hoshi o - 1 of 4 routes translation finished for the restoration patch, Houkiboshi Hika 2 of 4 H-scenes translated
  
• Mujou no Erasmus - The Erasmus two-faced stories - Released
  
• Nursery Rhyme - 100% translated and edited, text insertion 100% complete, testing ongoing
  
• Pure Pure - 100% translated, needs proofreading, partial patch released, all routes have been inserted
  
• Sakura no Uta - Chapter I 30% translated
  
• Sakura Wars 2 - Demo patch released, ADV, Battle, and "Long Day in the Theater" mode fully translated, disc 1 text inserted
  
• Sen no Hatou, Tsukisome no Kouki - Both original and fan disc 100% translated, in need of editing
  
• Shirotsume Yubiwa - 100% translated, 50% beta patch released
  
• Shizuku - 120/197 script files translated, 20/197 edited
  
• Taima Seiko Alice - 40% translated, 35% edited, 35% proofread, 1st partial patch out
  
• Tenshi no Inai 12-gatsu - 100% translated, Editing ongoing
  
• To Heart - 720/993 scripts translated, 200/993 edited
  
• Tokimeki Memorial 2 - Being translated
  
• Tokimeki Memorial Girls Side 4 - 55% translated
  
• Tsui no Sora Remake - 100% translated and edited, finalization progressing
  
• Umi kara Kuru Mono - 91/138 scripts translated
  
• Ushinawareta Mirai o Motomete - 22325/35416 (63.0%) lines translated
  
• Yosuga no Sora - Translation finished, editing and TLC ongoing, Total: TL 100% TLC 71% ED 55%, Common/Kazuha/Motoka/Sora routes fully edited
  

Official work
MangaGamer

• The Pillagers of Raillore - Out of Beta
  
• Ciconia - Phase 1 Released
  
• Hadaka Shitsuji fandisc - Picked up
  
• Rance 03 - 79% translated, 41% edited
  
• Rance X - 94% translated, 5% edited
  
• Luckydog1 - 100% translated and edited
  
• Funbag Fantasy 4 - 84% translated, 80% edited
  
• Eve of the 12th Month - 100% translated and 88% edited
  
• DEAD DAYS - 100% translated and edited
  
• Beat Valkyrie Ixseal - 88% translated and 81% edited
  
• Welcome to a Sexy, Open World - 98% translated and 90% edited
  

JAST

• Sumaga- Slow progress ongoing
  
• Katahane - Progress being made again
  
• Django - Not actively making progress
  
• Tokyo Hero Project - Translation finished, dealing with bugs
  
• Machine Child - Still being developed
  
• Yomegami: My Sweet Goddess - 100% translated
  
• Yamizome Liberator - Picked up
  
• Mojika: Truth Rears Its Ugly Head - Picked up
  
• Djibril - 100% translated, in editing
  
• Sisters: Last Day of Summer - June 3rd release
  
• Masquerade: Hell Academy - Through 1st QA pass, in 2nd QA pass
  

Age titles

• Kiminozo - Aiming for a Summer 2024 release

Sekai/Denpa

• Happy Saint Sheol - 100% edited, 40% QA, Demo released
  
• Harumade Kururu - Waiting on build
  
• Rewrite+ Harvest Festa - 100% translated, 40% edited, Steam page up, 2024 release
  
• Subete no Koi ni, Hanabata o. - 50% translated
  
• Sumire - Picked up
  
• Sanarara R - 100% translated and edited, waiting on build
  
• Glass - Picked up
  
• New Glass - Picked up
  
• Karakara 3 - 100% translated and edited, 70% engine work
  
• Yume to Iro de Dekiteiru - 100% translated, 35% edited
  
• Zutto Mae Kara Joshi Deshita - 100% translated, in editing
  
• Chiisana Kanojo no Serenade - 75% translated, 35% edited
  
• Hoshizora e Kakaru Hashi - 10% translated
  
• Hoshizora e Kakaru Hashi AA - Announced
  
• Akaneiro ni Somaru Saka - 50% translated
  
• Hamidashi Creative - Announced
  
• Inupara - In Development
  
• Nekopara After La Vraie Familie - In Development
  
• Raspberry Cube - Announced
  
• NEKO-NIN exHeart SPIN - 100% translated and edited, waiting on build
  

VisualArts

• Summer Pockets Reflection Blue - 2024 release

Nekonyan

• Dracu Riot - Waiting on Build, Release date announcement on hold until after Angel Chaos
  
• Melty Moment - 80% translated
  
• Fureraba Complete edition - Vita exclusive content to be added to Fureraba a couple months after the fandisc release
  
• Floral Flowlove - 100% translated, 70% edited, enging port ongoing
  
• Kakenuke Seishun Sparking - 80% translated, 70% edited, QA started
  
• Love, Elections, & Chocolate -100% translated and edited, Engine port nearly finished, entering QA shortly
  
• Love Love Love, Burning in my Heart! - 100% translated and 74% edited
  
• Ready or Not: The Deadline is Coming! - 100% translated, 99% edited, waiting on build
  
• Mysteries of the Heart: The Psychic Detective Case Files - 100% translated and edited, engine work in progress
  
• Angel Chaos RE-BOOT! - Delayed after Steam rejection
  
• Secret Project 2 - 100% translated and edited, queued for Unity port
  
• Secret Project 3 - 100% translated and edited, 50% though QA
  

PQube

• SINce Memories: Off the Starry Sky - Announced
  
• Gensou Manège - Announced
  

Dualtail

• Venus Blood Ragnarok - Kickstarter starting in May

Frontwing

• Sharin no Kuni - Working to resolve remaining issues
  
• Lilja and Natsuka: Painting Lies - July 25th release
  
• Everlasting Flowers - August 29th release date
  
• Revue Starlight El Dorado - August 8th release
  

Fakku

• Two Beasts Or Not To Beast!! - 2.0 version, editing in progress
  
• Forbidden Ward - In Pre-Production
  

Saikey Studios (mix of official/unofficial)

• Yaricir Kanojo ~Seiso de Yasashii Kanojo wa Yaricir no Hime Deshita~ - Released
  
• The Reason For Your Smile - Steam page up, Happy and NTR routes translated
  
• Toaru Hahaoya no Ayamachi ~Yukari Hen~ - 50% translated
  

HyoukanOpera

• Knight Case Files - Trial released, upcoming release

MAGES. GAMES

• Corpse Party II - Darkness Distortion - 2024 release

Voltage Inc.

• Project Code Kaleido Tower - 2024 release
  
• Project Code Neon Mafia - 2024 release
  
• Project Code Vampire Hunter - 2025 release
  

Aksys

• Radiant Tale -Fanfare- - June 27th release
  
• Tales from Toyotoki: Arrival of the Witch - Summer release
  
• Virche Evermore -EpiC: Lycoris- - Fall release
  
• Despera Drops - 2025 release
  

B-cluster

• Re;quartz Raid- 2024 release

MediBang Inc.-

• Cocktail Magic - Upcoming release

Kamitsubaki Studio

• KAMITSUBAKI CITY REGENERATE - Upcoming release

Dayu Zixun

• Voice Love on Air - Upcoming release

moesoft

• Devil Girl - Released

Shiravune

• NYO-NIN-JIMA -My New Life in Charge of a Tropical Island- - 2024 release
  
• Kara no Shoujo III - Announced
  
• Destiny Star Girlfriend 2 - Q2 2024 release
  
• Real Hentai Situation! 2 - 2024 release
  
• Sacrifice Villains - Announced
  
• AMANATSU ~Perfect Edition~ - May 17th release
  

Kagura Games

• Yoru ga Kuru! -Square of the Moon- Remastered - 2024 release
  
• Forsaken Quartet - May 18th release
  
• Angel Tear: Goddess Betrayed) - Upcoming release
  

Aniplex

• Tsukihime -A piece of blue glass moon - June 27th release
  
• Fate/stay night REMASTERED - 2024 release
  
• Hookah Haze - 2024 release
  
• Tanetsumi no Uta - 2024 release
  

Spike Chunsoft

• The Quintessential Quintuplets: Memories of a Quintessential Summer - Announced
  
• The Quintessential Quintuplets: Five Memories Spent With You - Announced
  

Love Lab

• Ever Maiden - 2024 release

DLsite

• Friendly lab - unlock(); - Upcoming release
  
• Club Suicide - Picked up
  

Idea Factory

• 9 R.I.P. - Fall 2024 release
  
• Date A Live: Ren Dystopia - 2024 release
  
• Cupid Parasite: Sweet and Spicy Darling - May 28th release
  

CRAFTWORK

• Geminism - English version announced

Harukaze

• Monkeys! - English release planned

Moonchime

• Haunted Obachestra Vol.1 Awaking - Upcoming release

Alice In Dissonance

• Fault Milestone 2 - Side Below - Upcoming release

G-mode

• Shinjuku Soumei - Demo Released, May 24th release

HyoukanOpera

• Knight Case Files - January release

MiKandi Japan

• Libra of the Vampire Princess - All versions of the patches in testing

PRODUCTION PENCIL

• Paradise Cleaning! -Tutor X Hypnosis - January release

072 Project

• Princess Paradise - 2024 release

F&C

• NTR with hypnosis application - Upcoming release

Eroge Japan

• Trap Yuri Garden - 2024 release

Tensei Games

• Unfaithful Wife: Ayano's "Netorare Report" - My gentle wife is fucking another man - Q2 2024 release

GRAVITY GAME ARISE

• Tokyo Psychodemic - Demo released, May 30th release

Dark [Word I can't say due to Automod deleting my posts:(]

• Master & Succubi Hentai Lessons 2 - April release

MintLip

• Him, the Smile & Bloom - August 8th release

Cherry Kiss

• Cosplay Cumdump: Doing it Doujin Style - May 23rd release

Other

• NarKarma EngineA - Announced, in development

First Previous
Reading through the reports sent back by my scout rats while my drones and I marched through Ping’s territory on the way to the last known location of my lost drones, I learned that the the enemy force had spread out into hunter groups, presumably to allow them to fight in a larger area and track down my fleeing troops. Additionally my scout rats had so far not been able to make contact with any of my lost drones but they had found traces of movement not originating from the enemy which hinted that at least some of them were still alive out there. Ordering my scouts to continue their observing of the enemy force, I made careful notes of the enemy clusters and made sure that I at least had a general idea of where each of the groups were at any time. Quickly exciting the furthest patrol area of Ping’s current territory, I made sure to order my drones to fan out and split into pairs and triplets before moving further into enemy territory once again.
Keeping an eye on the sky, I along with my drones darted from one piece of cover to the next, making sure to move as quietly as we could while not compromising our maneuverability. Peering up forward, I could spot a few roaming patrols far in the distance made up of mostly hornets although there were still a few drones still moving about on the ground making it that little bit more difficult to sneak past them without being detected. Checking the most recent scout rat reports, I found that the patrol group that I was currently watching was the only one for a little bit and thus if I could take them down quick enough, the others would be none the wiser. With this in mind, I made a few hand gestures and my scorpions and hornets quickly took up positions in a few of the building's windows while Churn and my ground troops slipped into comfortably defensible areas in case things did not go as planned.
Whispering to hold fire for a few moments, I let the enemy patrol which was mercifully rather small, only a couple of ground drones and four hornets flying above on overwatch, move a bit closer to our position before eventually bringing my hand down in a quick motion. My ranged drones took this hand signal as their que and opened fire with a fine precision which most of the fresh drones lacked, not because of inability but rather lack of field experience which the drones around me had in spades. Three of the four enemy hornets dropped to the ground dead or critically stunned by my scorpions who strangely preferred the stun cannon as opposed to the modified red hot laser cannon since they had out right refused to replace their weapon systems. Regardless they performed at a high level with their stun beams and so I was happy to let them keep their preferred armaments which evidently payed off as all enemy hornets were taken out and the one that was not killed immediately fell out of the sky although they had merely been clipped in the thrusters. As my scorpions and hornets focused down and eliminated the enemy air support, my hounds led by Cooper quickly dashed out of cover and pounced upon the still confused enemy ground drones who were quickly taken down and destroyed.
Walking over with the rest of the force which had stayed put and watched the surrounding area for any possible incoming enemy drones, I swiftly slammed the bottom side of my blast shield down onto the still spasming enemy hornet which cleanly ended their suffering. Gesturing to the corpses, a few of my ants quickly began dragging the bodies away in order to reduce the chances of getting discovered prematurely. As they did this, I commanded my remaining drone to take up positions in some of the nearby buildings until further orders before I moved out of the open and began checking up with my scout rats for any enemy movements that had occurred during the quick take down. Reading through their most recent report, I found that a few of the patrol groups somewhat near my position were being diverted to a section of ruins a few minutes to my east and that a few rat teams were already on the move to see what was going on.
Hmm, they must have found something if they were sending the patrol groups in the region over there. Bringing my hand up to where all of my drones could see it, I made the signal to begin moving out on double time before I pointed my hand in the direction of the activity. My drones nodded in confirmation before beginning to move as fast as their legs could carry them with myself in the general middle of the spread out formation. Buildings whizzed past as we moved through streets and alleys before I noticed something moving above us and promptly ordered my drones to take cover and hide, an order which they quickly obeyed as we all dove into what shadows we could. Peering up into the sky, I watched as an enemy group of hornets quickly flew over us dead set on getting to the coordinates of the activity as fast as they could. I guess that confirms my suspicions that they found something.
Looking over to my drones, I quickly nodded to them which they returned before we began moving once again towards the coordinates with a purpose and before long we reached a handful of buildings which gave us some nice and neat sight lines of what was happening. Above head were around a dozen and a half enemy hornets, a few of which looked to have been modified with decently large searchlights strapped onto the sides of their spike launchers which pierced the dark of the night sky, all of which were looking down upon what looked to be the entrance to an underground parking garage. Surrounding the entrance was a fair amount of ground drones all surrounding the entrance and slowly moving forward although occasionally a couple blue and red beams punched out of the garage and forced the drones back. This fully certified the fact that those were my drones down there and so I began ordering my drones to begin spreading out and picking targets.
Checking in with my scout rats in order to find out if more enemy drones were on the way, I found that thankfully the majority of the stream of enemy forces seemed to slow as the remaining enemy contacts seemed too preoccupied with their section of the ruins however that was still a considerable number of enemy drones I would have to deal with. The only enemy drones still on route would not arrive for another few minutes and thus as long as I fought quickly I would not have to worry. Taking in the numbers, I had a total of six ranged drones and I was fairly confident that they could take down one of the enemy hornets each however that still left more than a dozen and I doubted that the three of my ace dragonflies would be capable of taking them out on their own despite their already proven prowess. Although, I do know that there are some scorpions down in the garage. Perhaps if we can divert the enemy ground troops away from the garage they would be able to lend a bit of fire support.
Sharing my plan with Cooper and the rest of my drones, they all agreed that it was one of the better options that we have and so we quickly took up our positions and prepared to implement it. Hefting my blast shield up in front of me, I nodded to Cooper and my ranged drones before stepping out of hiding and sprinting forward towards the garage. Predictably the enemy hornets spotted me and opened fire with their spikes with most landing dangerously close with the exceptions thankfully only being a grazing blow against my thigh and a ricochet off of my blast shield. As I sprinted forward, my ranged drones fired off their short yet deadly barrage and five enemy hornets dropped down to the ground, dead or disabled, before my dragonflies took to the skies and charged. As the air battle commenced, my melee drones quickly broke cover and charged behind me and towards the enemy infantry who seemed surprised that someone would be crazy enough to charge straight at them.
As it turned out, I was that crazy, however the real difference was that I was a well armored and armed crazy person and my blast shield promptly slammed directly into the face of the first enemy drone standing against me. As I shifted one hand off of my blast shield's gripping handle and to my mace, I was suddenly reminded why I had missed my significantly more armored vessel drone as a hostile hound slammed into my leg and bit down hard. Swinging my mace down against their side, I felt a nice crumple as the hound went flying towards the rest of my drones and one of my moles took the time to stop and end the enemy trooper with a swift crunch of their armored claws as they slammed them down onto the hostile drones neck. Focusing back on the enemies at hand, I ordered Cooper to move past the hostile and inform the drones in the garage of the plan before I leapt forwards and slammed my mace into the skull of an enemy ant before blocking the counter charge performed by a hound.
Soon enough the rest of my melee drones joined me in engaging the enemy drones who were quickly shown the fact that they were outclassed by my veteran drones. Pushing the enemy infantry back with steady advances and well practiced strikes, the enemy force was quickly dwindling in numbers with my own drones taking merely glancing blows before orderly rotating to the back in order to keep the drones in the thick of it as fresh as possible. Our advantage was further pushed in our favor as Cooper, alongside a handful of battered yet eager drones, charged out of the garage which the enemy drones were formerly surrounding. My injured yet determined drones slammed into the hostile drones rear while a triplet of scorpions which I had seen firing at the hostiles before emerged from the garage, took aim, and shot off their laser cannons. While they may have been less accurate than my veterans, they still proved to be effective as I watched two enemy hornets drop down to the ground, further relieving my dragonflies of targets.
Speaking of which, my dragonflies had been doing good work as the number of hostile fliers was turned from twelve down to five including the two hornets shot down by the rescued scorpions. Even better, the constant blows and occasional strikes from my dragonflies managed to stop the enemy hornets from fully reloading their launchers and so my ranged drones managed to finish rearming before the hostile hornets could and so they had free reign to take careful aim before dropping the last of the hostile flying targets. With their hornet fire support being completely destroyed, the enemy infantry drones began to rout before being swiftly cut down by my drones as they turned to flee. Leaving the clean up to my drones, I jogged over to the garage entrance before walking down the ramp and turning to my right before I found more than a dozen heavily injured drones, both looking to be either mine or Ping’s, taking refuge in it. Along with the injured drones were a few spiders who were working hard to keep all the wounds of the troopers from being fatal, something that they were doing a surprisingly good job at.
I guess the half dozen drones that came out of the garage with Cooper were the ones lucky enough to still be combat effective. Walking back out the garage, I gestured to my melee drones to come over and once they did I began detailing them to begin helping up the most injured while the others who could still walk were escorted back to where my ranged drones were positioned. Walking alongside the line of injured drones being carried away, I spotted the dragonfly which was in charge of the auxiliaries which Ping had lent me and they seemed to spot me as well as they nodded to me. I was about to return the nod before something caught my eye on the periphery of my vision and as I turned I could make out the shine of metal in the shape of an insect. Reacting purely on instinct, I swung my body around and braced my arms against my blast shield which was suddenly slammed by a spike which thankfully only managed to tear a fresh scar through my blast shield before being fully deflected away from me. Screaming out “CONTACT”, I quickly ordered my drones to take the injured to safety before dashing forward towards where the spike shot had come from.
As I sprinted, my hornets and scorpions providing overwatch managed to find the enemy sniper and soon enough another hornet dropped down to the ground with a thud, however three more burst out from behind the building which they were hiding behind. Along with the hornets, a pair of crabs lumbered out as well and turned to face me as I charged and more projectiles, both friendly and hostile of origin, flew over my head. Closing the distance between me and the pair of crabs, I quickly leaped to the side as a whirling drill arm nearly slammed into my face but thankfully only met the side of my blast shield which was beginning to look more and more like a hunk of scrap metal by the minute. Rolling out of the way of another of the crabs arms, I quickly jumped back onto my feet and managed to slip under the crab before I planted my blast shield upright onto the ground and reached into my backpack. Pulling out two squirming fire beetles from the backpack, I quickly placed both of them onto the belly of the crab just as the drone slammed its torso down; however, my blast shield took the brunt of the hit and kept me from being completely squished.
Deciding now would be a good time to get out of there, I quickly leaped out from underneath the crab just as the two beetles detonated and blew apart the drones insides before the crab collapsed down to the ground. I barely managed to keep myself from celebrating before another swing from the other crab nearly took my head off but thankfully I managed to drop down to my knees fast enough to dodge it. Getting my head back into the game, I quickly dodged out of the way of another swipe which managed to take a bit of my chest before hopping onto the corpse of the other crab and pulling out my mace. The enemy drone quickly charged forward at me while reeling in their drill arm to try and hit me once again however I gave the crab no such chance as I leaped atop them in the apex of their charge and quickly took hold of one of their arms before swinging down my other with my mace which left deep dents in the armor but otherwise did little damage. That was until I pulled out another beetle and placed it atop the dented area before jumping off the crab which was quickly followed by the detonation of the beetle.
The sudden destruction of one of their frontal claws and a fair few legs did horrible things to the crab’s balance which I immediately took advantage of as I quickly chucked my fourth and last beetle into the now exposed innards of the enemy drone before jumping to the side as the beetle quickly detonated and ended the crabs life in one quick motion. Looking around for any more enemies for a second, I concluded that the crabs were it before one of my veterans confirmed it as they notified me that the enemy hornets had been neutralized. Sighing in relief, I made my way back to my drones, although not before quickly running over to a few of the downed enemy hornets who had the search light modification which I quickly scanned, who thankfully had not been hit by the enemy hornets, minus a couple of grazing shots which my hornets and scorpions took when the hostile decided that they were the priority targets. Checking up with my scout rats who were still monitoring the enemy forces, I was surprised when the report came in stating that I should start hightailing it back to the outpost as all of the enemy forces in the region were on the move towards my positions.
That got me moving as I began ordering my drones to start marching back to Ping’s territory as quickly and quietly as possible. I did not doubt that my forces as they were could probably take on a few of the enemy patrols but I would rather not risk the injured, not to mention the fact that I was fresh out of beetles meaning that if more crabs are part of those patrols we would be less than prepared. As we moved, I made sure that I and at least a couple of my veteran drones were on high alert watching the skies and the streets behind us in case enemy patrols were nearby or had spotted us. Thankfully the only thing that happened was a close encounter with an enemy hornet with one of those searchlight modifications which nearly spotted my drones as we hid in a building, however before it saw us one of their buddies seemed to get its attention. The rest of the march was mercifully uneventful and soon enough we were back in friendly territory and not long after we would reach the outpost which still housed my tortoise and more importantly their support staff in the form of additional spiders.
As soon as we entered the outpost, my spiders immediately noticed the injured drones and dropped what they were doing in order to take care of the significantly more important task of keeping the many injured drones from succumbing to their wounds. Now that we were in safe territory, I quickly counted up the number of drones that we had managed to rescue and the answer was somewhat grim as I found that we had managed to save nine of my drones and five of Pings which in total only accounted for around twenty percent of the drones which made up the original force. Perhaps there are more still scattered around the area, I cannot accept that this is everyone that survived. Ordering my scout rats to continue the search for more survivors, I quickly hopped over to the factory and more specifically the radio tower where I sent Ping a message stating that I had found some of the survivors and they were now back in their territory.
As I finished writing out the message and sending it out, I sat down for a second on top of my factory’s roof and watched as the twin suns rose once again into the sky for a few moments. Enjoying the warmth of the glistening sun for a few moments, I eventually pulled myself away and got back onto the next task on hand which I figured was the reassembly of my forces for Pings battlefront. After placing my vessel away, I began drifting about and checking the progress of the fabrication in the factory which looked to be almost complete as ten of the dozen dragonflies which I had ordered were now complete and ready to move out. Giving them the order to move themselves over to the front line outpost in Churns territory once the last two of their members finished being constructed, I decided to move over to the mining outpost and see how the operations were progressing over there. Arriving at the outpost in question, I could see the steady stream of resources being carried out of the mines and either thrown into the refinery or directly placed in the store house.
Drifting down into the mining tunnels themselves, I found that they were much larger than I remembered which I chalked up to the actions of the marauder which must have had their harvesters create some additional space for the large snail to move about in. Every so often I would see small caverns carved into the sides of the mine shaft, in which were small piles of materials that were being slowly being added and taken away from as my drones assigned to hualing created a sort of conveyor system where a group of drones would shift ores from one cavern to the next before heading back and repeating. Was this the most efficient method, probably not, but regardless it was how my drones had organized themselves and I knew better from the countless times fresh management teams decided to change site policies to not to fix what was not already broken. As I floated to the lower levels of the mines, the less light was available and I could barely see anything at all aside from the glow coming off of my now more numerous drones actively working on mining out the area's various mineral nodes. Perhaps I should have my spiders construct some lights down here or maybe just modify the crabs to have those new searchlights.
Reaching the very bottom of the mines, I found my marauder and two of their smaller harvester sub-drones which were currently working on further carving out additional mine shaft area. Quickly checking the mineral scanner position at the surface of the outpost, I saw that the marauder was mining down towards another vein of metals although something was nagging me about the shape of the mineral vein as parts of it seemed to be separated by a few dozen feet of distance between them. Floating back down to the marauder, I decided to watch for a little while as the harvester sub-drones dug further into the ground and towards the strange vein. Soon enough the harvesters managed to hit minerals which were subsequently fed back into the marauder which glowed slightly as its internal refinery processed the metals down into refined plates which were stored on its sides. This continued to a few more minutes as the marauder dug further and further, I was about to decide that I had something better to do when I noticed that a section of the wall crack and crumble as my harvesters chopped away at the surrounding earth before collapsing completely and revealing an open area behind it. Looking down through the hole, I was sincerely surprised to find a large cavern at the bottom of my mine.
Next

• How old are you? What's your gender? Give us a general description of yourself.
I'm genderfluid, and will be turning 21 in a few weeks.
• Is there a medical diagnosis that may impact your mental stability somehow?
Although I haven't been properly diagnosed yet, I suspect that I have autism and ADHD, and have had signs of OCD since the age of eight.
• Describe your upbringing. Did it have any kind of religious or structured influence? How did you respond to it?
While I thought I had a good childhood growing up, it was incredibly abusive and toxic looking back. It was difficult to recognize the signs when I was younger because my family background does not fit the stereotype (I'm from a middle/upper-middle-class family and have always lived with both parents), and due to the gaslighting and on-and-off abuse from my parents.
Although neither of my parents were particularly religious (my maternal grandmother is a devout Catholic, however), I had some Christian influences growing up. However, thanks to my parents not pushing religion onto me, I consider myself non-religious. I don't think that an individual needs faith, religion or spirituality to be a good person, and I prefer to live by my personal values.
Back to my parents: my mother, who was the main caregiver in my life, has been incredibly controlling, especially since I was around seven years old, when the abuse escalated. My father, while he hasn't been very present in my life, acted as a bystander who enabled the abuse or carried out abuse of his own.
Since my early adolescence, I have been fighting back against my parents' abuse, and luckily the physical abuse stopped, but the emotional abuse and gaslighting continues to this day. I'm currently saving up money so that I can leave my family.
• What do you do as a job or as a career (if you have one)? Do you like it? Why or why not?
I'm currently an education student at university, and will be graduating next year in the fall. While a part of me is interested in teaching history, which I have always enjoyed, and learn about how to offer the emotional support to my future students that I didn't have when I was younger, I do believe that I am capable of other career fields that either pay more, are of higher status, or I simply enjoy more. I have always wanted to pursue law, and I think I would enjoy becoming an interpreter or art historian as well. Outside of academia, I am interested in acting, modeling and singing, so I wouldn't mind pursuing either of those as a future career.
• If you had to spend an entire weekend by yourself, how would you feel? Would you feel lonely or refreshed?
As much as I love being around the few people I genuinely care about, I always need some alone time each day because that's how I recharge - I find constant human interaction exhausting. An entire weekend by myself doing activities that I enjoy would be ideal.
• What kinds of activities do you prefer? Do you like, and are you good at sports? Do you enjoy any other outdoor or indoor activities?
I definitely prefer indoor activities, and I'm not a big fan of sports or outdoor activities in general.
• How curious are you? Do you have more ideas then you can execute? What are your curiosities about? What are your ideas about - is it environmental or conceptual, and can you please elaborate?
I am curious, but only about my interests, and my interests are limited and specific (ex) Greek mythology and World War II history). I do have more ideas that I can execute, whether it's random philosophical thoughts or about the content that I create on social media (I have a list for those ideas on my Notes app).
• Would you enjoy taking on a leadership position? Do you think you would be good at it? What would your leadership style be?
I love taking on leadership positions, and have been told that I am a good leader. I am the most comfortable knowing that I'm in control. I try to take into everyone's account, but because most people aren't that decisive, especially in group settings, I trust myself to make the big decisions.
• Are you coordinated? Why do you feel as if you are or are not? Do you enjoy working with your hands in some form? Describe your activity?
I don't consider myself to be the most coordinated. I'm usually in my head to the point where I lose sense of my physical surroundings. I'm also very clumsy and not the most athletic. However, I do enjoy doing arts and crafts (ex) DIY, jewelry-making, etc.)
• Are you artistic? If yes, describe your art? If you are not particular artistic but can appreciate art please likewise describe what forums of art you enjoy. Please explain your answer.
I love art, and I consider myself artistic. When it comes to the arts, I'm a jack of all trades, and create aesthetics, covers, YouTube videos, etc. I'm hoping to diversify my creations, such as drawing or playing instruments. I also enjoy looking at paintings and sculpture in museums.
• What's your opinion about the past, present, and future? How do you deal with them?
I tend to dwell in the past or future, leading to either replaying the few positive events, regretting past mistakes, or planning the future.
• How do you act when others request your help to do something (anything)? If you would decide to help them, why would you do so?
When others request my help on something, I immediately drop whatever I'm doing to help them. I always try to help others to the best of my ability - I was simply born that way.
• Do you need logical consistency in your life?
I do value logical consistency, and get easily annoyed by others' lack of consistency. However, I do believe that existing information should be adjusted if new information that contradicts it is introduced.
• How important is efficiency and productivity to you?
Efficiency and productivity are things that I greatly value. I unfortunately am stuck in the mindset where I consider it wasteful if I don't spend every minute doing something productive. I prefer to do all of my tasks first before relaxing. Even when I'm relaxing, I'm always doing something (ex) reading, posting for social media, recording, etc.)
• Do you control others, even if indirectly? How and why do you do that?
I have to admit that I do tend to control others, and get them to agree with me or do things my way, as a result of my hubris. As I grew older, I learned to catch myself when I attempt to control others.
• What are your hobbies? Why do you like them?
The enjoy intellectual hobbies, such as reading (I usually read classics, my favorite being Les Misérables, or YA fantasy, such as the Harry Potter or Percy Jackson series), learning foreign languages, or learning about social issues. I also enjoy creative hobbies, such as art (as I mentioned above) or listening to music. In general, I prefer solitary hobbies that allow me to express myself or escape into my inner world.
• What is your learning style? What kind of learning environments do you struggle with most? Why do you like/struggle with these learning styles? Do you prefer classes involving memorization, logic, creativity, or your physical senses?
For me, the ideal classroom is full of discussion. I enjoy sharing my opinions and hearing others' perspectives to better form my ideas. On the other hand, the worst kind of classroom is an old-fashioned one where the teacher lectures and I only take notes without having a chance to actually participate in the lesson. It's even worse when the teacher doesn't use slides or any other visual aids.
• How good are you at strategizing? Do you easily break up projects into manageable tasks? Or do you have a tendency to wing projects and improvise as you go?
I am pretty good at strategizing. Once I am confronted with a task, I immediately create a mental to-do list, but later complete them according to my energy level that day.
• What are your aspirations in life, professionally and personally?
As I mentioned in one of the earlier questions, I'm still not 100% sure what I want to do professionally. Since I'm getting my teaching degree, I'll try teaching just to see if I enjoy it, and if I don't, I'll be happy to try a different field.
My lifelong goal is to free myself from my family and become the person I was meant to be before the abuse. I'm currently in the process of saving money to buy myself a home. I am also planning on doing therapy soon, not only to heal myself but also in case I decide to adopt/foster children in the future. In fact, the main reason why I decided to major in education was to not repeat the same mistakes that my parents made, and to give my future children, and the next generation as a whole, the home and family they deserve.
• What are your fears? What makes you uncomfortable? What do you hate? Why?
My worst fear is either personal failure (hence why I always try to stay on top of everything when it comes to uni/jobs to the point where others see me as neurotic) or a dystopia where human rights are ignored, which has been unfortunately been coming true for the past few years where I live (with the anti-LGBT agenda by the right and the rise of antisemitism).
I get extremely uncomfortable when others misunderstand me/my personality or intrude upon my boundaries. I also hate being considered a bad person (not necessarily "unpleasant," but rather "morally wrong") or being looked down upon/being seen as useless.
• What do the "highs" in your life look like?
The "highs" in my life would be not having to worry about anything (ex) school/jobs, relationships, etc.) because everything goes my way and I have the freedom to do whatever. I unfortunately haven't had too many "highs" in life yet.
• What do the "lows" in your life look like?
The lowest point in my life was two years ago, when I first came out as LGBT to my unsupportive parents, and I was stuck in a toxic friendship at the same time.
• How attached are you to reality? Do you daydream often, or do you pay attention to what's around you? If you do daydream, are you aware of your surroundings while you do so?
I am more attached to my inner world than I am to reality. I am almost always daydreaming, and often lose awareness of my physical surroundings while doing so.
• Imagine you are alone in a blank, empty room. There is nothing for you to do and no one to talk to. What do you think about?
My mind would be busy, as my thought process would jump from one thing to another.
• How long do you take to make an important decision? And do you change your mind once you've made it?
I tend to take some time before making important decisions. It generally depends on whether I change my mind afterwards, but the more important the specific decision is, the more I'm likely to stick with it.
• How long do you take to process your emotions? How important are emotions in your life?
While I feel emotions intensely for short periods of time, I prefer to take the time to process my emotions, ideally by thinking through things in my head, rather than talking it out with my friends or family. However, I don't place much value in emotions, because I think they cloud an individual's ability to make wise judgments. Instead, I place more value on logic and core values.
• Do you ever catch yourself agreeing with others just to appease them and keep the conversation going? How often? Why?
While I sometimes agree with others just to appease them on mundane subjects (ex) a friend talking to me about a fictional character that they might like, even if I don't), more often than not I tend to stick with my own judgment. For example, if I catch someone disrespecting me or saying stuff that is either factually incorrect or could be considered offensive, I will correct them regardless of who they are.
• Do you break rules often? Do you think authority should be challenged, or that they know better? If you do break rules, why?
I have never been one to break the rules, especially at school. In fact, I always double-check to make sure that I am following the rules.
However, I do believe that it is necessary to break the rules if the rules are wrong. If I lived during the Jim Crow laws or Apartheid era, I would have been breaking as many racist, unfair laws as I could.
I believe that authority is inherently flawed, hence why there have been movements to overthrow them (just think about the French Revolution). Because authority is no more perfect than any other human, they could be wrong, and they should be replaced when necessary. I also believe that blind obedience to authority is dangerous (ex) the citizens supporting Nazi Germany). It's important for us to stay true to our values and criticise things.

• How old are you? What's your gender? Give us a general description of yourself.
I'm genderfluid, and will be turning 21 in a few weeks.
• Is there a medical diagnosis that may impact your mental stability somehow?
Although I haven't been properly diagnosed yet, I suspect that I have autism and ADHD, and have had signs of OCD since the age of eight.
• Describe your upbringing. Did it have any kind of religious or structured influence? How did you respond to it?
While I thought I had a good childhood growing up, it was incredibly abusive and toxic looking back. It was difficult to recognize the signs when I was younger because my family background does not fit the stereotype (I'm from a middle/upper-middle-class family and have always lived with both parents), and due to the gaslighting and on-and-off abuse from my parents.
Although neither of my parents were particularly religious (my maternal grandmother is a devout Catholic, however), I had some Christian influences growing up. However, thanks to my parents not pushing religion onto me, I consider myself non-religious. I don't think that an individual needs faith, religion or spirituality to be a good person, and I prefer to live by my personal values.
Back to my parents: my mother, who was the main caregiver in my life, has been incredibly controlling, especially since I was around seven years old, when the abuse escalated. My father, while he hasn't been very present in my life, acted as a bystander who enabled the abuse or carried out abuse of his own.
Since my early adolescence, I have been fighting back against my parents' abuse, and luckily the physical abuse stopped, but the emotional abuse and gaslighting continues to this day. I'm currently saving up money so that I can leave my family.
• What do you do as a job or as a career (if you have one)? Do you like it? Why or why not?
I'm currently an education student at university, and will be graduating next year in the fall. While a part of me is interested in teaching history, which I have always enjoyed, and learn about how to offer the emotional support to my future students that I didn't have when I was younger, I do believe that I am capable of other career fields that either pay more, are of higher status, or I simply enjoy more. I have always wanted to pursue law, and I think I would enjoy becoming an interpreter or art historian as well. Outside of academia, I am interested in acting, modeling and singing, so I wouldn't mind pursuing either of those as a future career.
• If you had to spend an entire weekend by yourself, how would you feel? Would you feel lonely or refreshed?
As much as I love being around the few people I genuinely care about, I always need some alone time each day because that's how I recharge - I find constant human interaction exhausting. An entire weekend by myself doing activities that I enjoy would be ideal.
• What kinds of activities do you prefer? Do you like, and are you good at sports? Do you enjoy any other outdoor or indoor activities?
I definitely prefer indoor activities, and I'm not a big fan of sports or outdoor activities in general.
• How curious are you? Do you have more ideas then you can execute? What are your curiosities about? What are your ideas about - is it environmental or conceptual, and can you please elaborate?
I am curious, but only about my interests, and my interests are limited and specific (ex) Greek mythology and World War II history). I do have more ideas that I can execute, whether it's random philosophical thoughts or about the content that I create on social media (I have a list for those ideas on my Notes app).
• Would you enjoy taking on a leadership position? Do you think you would be good at it? What would your leadership style be?
I love taking on leadership positions, and have been told that I am a good leader. I am the most comfortable knowing that I'm in control. I try to take into everyone's account, but because most people aren't that decisive, especially in group settings, I trust myself to make the big decisions.
• Are you coordinated? Why do you feel as if you are or are not? Do you enjoy working with your hands in some form? Describe your activity?
I don't consider myself to be the most coordinated. I'm usually in my head to the point where I lose sense of my physical surroundings. I'm also very clumsy and not the most athletic. However, I do enjoy doing arts and crafts (ex) DIY, jewelry-making, etc.)
• Are you artistic? If yes, describe your art? If you are not particular artistic but can appreciate art please likewise describe what forums of art you enjoy. Please explain your answer.
I love art, and I consider myself artistic. When it comes to the arts, I'm a jack of all trades, and create aesthetics, covers, YouTube videos, etc. I'm hoping to diversify my creations, such as drawing or playing instruments. I also enjoy looking at paintings and sculpture in museums.
• What's your opinion about the past, present, and future? How do you deal with them?
I tend to dwell in the past or future, leading to either replaying the few positive events, regretting past mistakes, or planning the future.
• How do you act when others request your help to do something (anything)? If you would decide to help them, why would you do so?
When others request my help on something, I immediately drop whatever I'm doing to help them. I always try to help others to the best of my ability - I was simply born that way.
• Do you need logical consistency in your life?
I do value logical consistency, and get easily annoyed by others' lack of consistency. However, I do believe that existing information should be adjusted if new information that contradicts it is introduced.
• How important is efficiency and productivity to you?
Efficiency and productivity are things that I greatly value. I unfortunately am stuck in the mindset where I consider it wasteful if I don't spend every minute doing something productive. I prefer to do all of my tasks first before relaxing. Even when I'm relaxing, I'm always doing something (ex) reading, posting for social media, recording, etc.)
• Do you control others, even if indirectly? How and why do you do that?
I have to admit that I do tend to control others, and get them to agree with me or do things my way, as a result of my hubris. As I grew older, I learned to catch myself when I attempt to control others.
• What are your hobbies? Why do you like them?
The enjoy intellectual hobbies, such as reading (I usually read classics, my favorite being Les Misérables, or YA fantasy, such as the Harry Potter or Percy Jackson series), learning foreign languages, or learning about social issues. I also enjoy creative hobbies, such as art (as I mentioned above) or listening to music. In general, I prefer solitary hobbies that allow me to express myself or escape into my inner world.
• What is your learning style? What kind of learning environments do you struggle with most? Why do you like/struggle with these learning styles? Do you prefer classes involving memorization, logic, creativity, or your physical senses?
For me, the ideal classroom is full of discussion. I enjoy sharing my opinions and hearing others' perspectives to better form my ideas. On the other hand, the worst kind of classroom is an old-fashioned one where the teacher lectures and I only take notes without having a chance to actually participate in the lesson. It's even worse when the teacher doesn't use slides or any other visual aids.
• How good are you at strategizing? Do you easily break up projects into manageable tasks? Or do you have a tendency to wing projects and improvise as you go?
I am pretty good at strategizing. Once I am confronted with a task, I immediately create a mental to-do list, but later complete them according to my energy level that day.
• What are your aspirations in life, professionally and personally?
As I mentioned in one of the earlier questions, I'm still not 100% sure what I want to do professionally. Since I'm getting my teaching degree, I'll try teaching just to see if I enjoy it, and if I don't, I'll be happy to try a different field.
My lifelong goal is to free myself from my family and become the person I was meant to be before the abuse. I'm currently in the process of saving money to buy myself a home. I am also planning on doing therapy soon, not only to heal myself but also in case I decide to adopt/foster children in the future. In fact, the main reason why I decided to major in education was to not repeat the same mistakes that my parents made, and to give my future children, and the next generation as a whole, the home and family they deserve.
• What are your fears? What makes you uncomfortable? What do you hate? Why?
My worst fear is either personal failure (hence why I always try to stay on top of everything when it comes to uni/jobs to the point where others see me as neurotic) or a dystopia where human rights are ignored, which has been unfortunately been coming true for the past few years where I live (with the anti-LGBT agenda by the right and the rise of antisemitism).
I get extremely uncomfortable when others misunderstand me/my personality or intrude upon my boundaries. I also hate being considered a bad person (not necessarily "unpleasant," but rather "morally wrong") or being looked down upon/being seen as useless.
• What do the "highs" in your life look like?
The "highs" in my life would be not having to worry about anything (ex) school/jobs, relationships, etc.) because everything goes my way and I have the freedom to do whatever. I unfortunately haven't had too many "highs" in life yet.
• What do the "lows" in your life look like?
The lowest point in my life was two years ago, when I first came out as LGBT to my unsupportive parents, and I was stuck in a toxic friendship at the same time.
• How attached are you to reality? Do you daydream often, or do you pay attention to what's around you? If you do daydream, are you aware of your surroundings while you do so?
I am more attached to my inner world than I am to reality. I am almost always daydreaming, and often lose awareness of my physical surroundings while doing so.
• Imagine you are alone in a blank, empty room. There is nothing for you to do and no one to talk to. What do you think about?
My mind would be busy, as my thought process would jump from one thing to another.
• How long do you take to make an important decision? And do you change your mind once you've made it?
I tend to take some time before making important decisions. It generally depends on whether I change my mind afterwards, but the more important the specific decision is, the more I'm likely to stick with it.
• How long do you take to process your emotions? How important are emotions in your life?
While I feel emotions intensely for short periods of time, I prefer to take the time to process my emotions, ideally by thinking through things in my head, rather than talking it out with my friends or family. However, I don't place much value in emotions, because I think they cloud an individual's ability to make wise judgments. Instead, I place more value on logic and core values.
• Do you ever catch yourself agreeing with others just to appease them and keep the conversation going? How often? Why?
While I sometimes agree with others just to appease them on mundane subjects (ex) a friend talking to me about a fictional character that they might like, even if I don't), more often than not I tend to stick with my own judgment. For example, if I catch someone disrespecting me or saying stuff that is either factually incorrect or could be considered offensive, I will correct them regardless of who they are.
• Do you break rules often? Do you think authority should be challenged, or that they know better? If you do break rules, why?
I have never been one to break the rules, especially at school. In fact, I always double-check to make sure that I am following the rules.
However, I do believe that it is necessary to break the rules if the rules are wrong. If I lived during the Jim Crow laws or Apartheid era, I would have been breaking as many racist, unfair laws as I could.
I believe that authority is inherently flawed, hence why there have been movements to overthrow them (just think about the French Revolution). Because authority is no more perfect than any other human, they could be wrong, and they should be replaced when necessary. I also believe that blind obedience to authority is dangerous (ex) the citizens supporting Nazi Germany). It's important for us to stay true to our values and criticise things.

This was originally posted by midesaka little over a year ago. I noticed since then that there was an update that never got included in the original post. Only found it myself today scrolling back. Figured people today would enjoy it. I also need to credit Direct-Caterpillar77 for linking it in the megathread which is how I stumbled upon this.
OOP is OBlondeOne. I am not OOP. Reminder do not message or contact them, or comment in the linked posts below.
I've taken the text from the Original BORU. The new update is after 🔴🔴🔴
trigger warnings: verbal abuse, gaslighting, drug use
Original BORU
OOP delivers donated clothing to displaced fire victims. Woman demands coat OOP is wearing instead, then claims OOP threw donated clothing in ditch.
I am NOT OP. Original post by in on Sunday, February 26, 2023, with updates as comments on original post through Saturday, March 4, 2023.
Some people... - Sunday, February 26, 2023
[NOTE: I have added a couple of clarifying words in brackets to reduce quoting.]
I'm part of a local donation group, so every now and then, I get asked to help with clothes donations. Someone passes away or downsizes, and I will help wash, fold, sort, and deliver the clothes to various free stores. Sometimes, if we are notified of someone in the community in need, we will deliver essentials like winter or kids clothing to their house. We're just a group within the community -there is no religious, political or ulterior motive. We just spread extra through the community as needed as discreetly as possible to help out. This particular situation just hurts my head, and I'm still trying to figure out how it escalated the way it did.
So a few days ago there was a fire in our community which left 3 families displaced. We collected what we could in the sizes they needed, and off we went.
We dont ask for anything in return other than knowing the families are a little better off. We always apologize and explain that while they may not be they styles they're accustomed to ( as donated clothing ) but at least it is clean and warm. If they had specific needs to let a member of the group know and we would do what we can. A lot of our collected items belonged to other families whose children outgrew the items. It's anonymous and it's a way for our more comfortable community members to help out others within the community with this. It's one thing I love about my community - people don't hesitate to help where needed.
I was given an address and head out as usual. Pull in, get the bags and coats to the door and knock.
After that... I'm not sure what to think. It started off as it usually does. There was a mother and 3 children, so I explain that there are 3 bags of clothing in the sizes submitted, and a box of age appropriate toys just like with the other families.
I thought I heard wrong when she said she preferred my coat and just said what?
She called me rude and told me again,' This stuff is OK, but I want the coat you're wearing '.
When I told her, "No, I'm sorry, but I just bought this coat she got angry and accused me of picking through donation bags for "the good stuff."
I've never run into this issue before. None of the group members are well off. In fact, that's why we do what we do. Because life is hard here and we believe in sharing what we have as a community. We collect good quality items from those with extra and distribute it freely to those that need it or have specific needs. Sometimes we all take items from our own closets if they're needed more elsewhere. Last year we raised funds to help purchase a wheelchair accessible vehicle for a family. The year before it was a young family whose matriarch was diagnosed with terminal cancer. This years cause is to build 4 'tiny homes' for the homeless in our community to use as needed. Our goal is to provide stability so they can successfully reintegrate during and after addiction rehabilitation. We all do what we can to try to help, basically. It's a hard world to feel alone in.
Now, my coat is expensive ( $250 ) but I've also saved gift cards for 2 years and anxiously watched for post-season sales before finally taking the plunge and got it for 75% off. Maybe I messed up by wearing it on this errand? I don't know. After I said no, this is my coat a second time, she started yelling at me.
I just left the bags on the doorstep and drove away.
Today I wake up to a slew of texts from the group asking me to explain why I refused to give the mother any winter coats, and why I left everything at the end of the driveway... allegedly in a ditch? They aren't questioning. Most are downright accusatory. Some are just borderline mean.
It's the kind of day where I feel like giving up on this making the world a better place thing.
I've been where these families are. And people helped me just like this. I know what it feels like to rely on others... so I do try to be compassionate and understanding without being condescending or pitying. I don't often talk about what I do because nobody needs to know what came from where, or who is getting what. It's just paying it forward. I do this because it's been done for me, and it's the right thing to do. It's that simple.
But after today... I don't even want to reply to anyone. It's not just that woman. It's the texts that are getting kinda nasty at this point. It's these people obviously talking about me behind my back. It's how quick they were to assume I must have done this.
I'm not sure if I want to do this anymore after all this. I've been part of this for 5 years and have never had a complaint before. I feel betrayed by people I thought were my friends. It just all feels gross, dramatic and depressing now, and that's now how this is supposed to feel.
===
I could understand if this was, like, a fancy fur coat or something.
This is literally just a rather plain looking long coat that happens to be super warm.
I don't get it.

It's only been an official group with a board for about 4 months. But we have been doing this for 5 years now as a project of mine and the current board president that gathered consiserable traction and volunteers/funding as time went on.
They so need policies in place. If only to protect the clients that use the service. But as a new board we are all just learning the official ropes and red tape as we go.
The one person I thought I could count on is currently the one insisting this happened as the client describes.
I'm just so confused.

We did need a board in this case as we are partially federally funded- the community pantry is, anyways.
It's a requirement. Unfortunately.

I've had 1 out of 5 [members of the charity group] text asking if I'm ok, and what happened. The rest seem to believe that I did this.
I don't know how to move on from this. Because the truth will come out eventually in a community this small. It always does.
The question now is do I want to be involved with people like this. I don't think I can trust them after this.
===

Maybe take a breather from the group. The way they treated you is horrible.

The issue is I can't avoid them either. I'm going to have to answer eventually, either via text or in person.
The longer I wait, the worse it will be. I know that. But I just don't want to deal with this either. Small community. The truth will come out eventually.
But it's now obvious that I can't trust these people. No matter what's said after this, the damage has been done.

Update:
As suggested, I did text them as a group in bullet form stating facts only. ( edit: sorry for formatting. Copied from text ,)
'

1. Items were carried to front door as per usual
2. Client requested my personal attire
3. Client accused me of theft from donation bags
4. Client verbally abused me
5. I left the following on Client's doorstep : ½ bag of women's clothing sizes m-l : 1+½ bag children's clothing sizes 3-8 : 1x bag of assorted linens & towels : 1x box of assorted children's toys and books

I am trying very hard to understand the context of some of the messages I've received about this, and am truly confused as to why anyone would think I would purposefully degrade a Client. You all know my history and reasons I participate.
As I feel I no longer have a place of trust within our group, I am formally resigning from my roles within the committee, and the (group)
I will, with your blessing, remain on the Helping Tree as a contact'
So far the replies are very interesting. They range from apologetic to accusatory to narcissistic. The most interesting one so far, I think, was not intended for me and insinuated that this was for the best. I can't believe how naive I've been.
There's an emergency meeting being scheduled for next week, as apparently you're not just allowed to resign mid-term from a board like this without a valid reason. Which I think I have.
The benefit of this is my accuser also has to give an official statement in the meeting minutes because ive resigned. Which I'm allowed to attend and comment on. Which adds validity ti my reasons for resigning. Would it be petty if I wore my coat again, or should I choose something older? Genuinely asking. I don't want to make things worse. I just want out to do my own thing.
Rumors are already starting and seem to be in my favor. Small towns are terrific/terrible for that. And I've just been texted asking me to withdraw my resignation ' for fear this may cause an irreparable rift in our charitable group'.
I have 8 months left to my current term as Secretary. A position that requires the trust of the board members to record accurate notes. Which I no longer feel I have. I don't want my character unfairly questioned again after I've worked so damn hard to build it up.
My resignation was intended to prevent drama and divide. It is doing the opposite.
What would you do? I feel like I'm damned if I do, and damned if I don't.

Not allowed to resign? What are they going to do, ground you?

With a formal board, there are steps to take to remove a member of the core board ( pres, vice president, secretary, treasurer, committee heads).
Or so I'm being told. This may be a stall tactic. I'm going over the current bylaws and policies but it's small font and a hard read.

I'm surprised/touched by how many clients are defending me, but I think this is what is causing a lot of drama and distrust both within the organization and with those that use it. Which is exactly what I was trying to avoid by quietly resigning.
It just sucks, for lack of a better word. I feel like the religious have it wrong. It's not judge not lest ye be judged. It's just be judged these days.

Going forward, it needs to be mandatory that there be two delivery people on every delivery. No excuses. There will be people in the future that are in dire need of your group's services. Please do not let that woman's behavior stop you from helping those who appreciate your work. And bonus if the other helper has a phone's camera on . You have documentation, and they grow manners if they didn't already have them. Has anyone gone by the house again to see if there was really a ditch??

Oh my...
My dash cam! I'm going to check it.
Thank you! Thank you so much!

No audio. No clear AHA! moment.
But it does show enough.
It shows me pulling in, and that there's nothing on the porch. It shows the car moving slightly as I take the bags out, and it does show a bag being deposited on the porch as well as at least 2 coats/snowsuits.
As I back out you can almost see the whole porch. You do see her outside but the definition isn't good enough to see her face or what she's doing.
I'm also still not sure what proof-if any-has been submitted by my accuser(s).
Who, I'm told, has been dropped from the Helping Tree community pantry registry.
I'm actually starting to get very angry. That woman messed up. But she has 3 kids under her care that deserve to eat and be clothed. This is going way too far.

Update:
Ungrateful client is board presidents former sister in law.
And yes, they're still friendly.
Ah. Small towns... 🤷‍♀️
I can't wait for next week...

I KNEW IT! This whole fiasco smelled strongly of being COMPLETELY orchestrated! Typical small town intrigue and power struggle when there's only ONE that's struggling for the power! President wants you kicked out because you're a CO-FOUNDER and SHE wants to take ALL the accolades and applause from the community! Go get your reputation back, sweet Lady! You ARE needed and necessary to the community, if you weren't, you wouldn't have been doing this charitable work for FIVE years! FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT!!!

I'm trying to figure out how to walk away, but still acknowledge what's going on without hurting the board-they do good work that's needed. I can't torpedo that no matter how I feel.
And that's the problem.
I think I'm going to ask for an official board inquest -which is eithin my rights according to our by-laws - before I go. I can't see someone doing this over reputation or clout. I certainly hope not, anyways. But if the inquest finds this was planned ( who tf does this? ) I would have grounds to have the board President removed. It's not pettiness- I don't want to see this done to someone else.
But you're right. Something stinks here and it gets worse by the day. I'm going to look into [comment ends here]

I'm going to submit a statement to the board, with footage from my dash cam that shows at least 1 bag clearly on the porch.
Unfortunately, I forgot to itemize the coat/3 snowsuits & boots dropped off in my group text, so I do have to justify that one somehow.
I also just heard they dropped off another 3 bags to the woman, including winter gear. I think it's an attempt at damage control, but I also think they're moving in the wrong direction, given what I'm hearing from many.
If she tries to sell the excess, like many seem to think she will, this will all come to a head so much faster. Either way, I'm ironically the least invested in this around here at this point.
Small town drama ...

I admit, looking back, it is odd that I was given this client when others were closer. I had thought it may be because of scheduling conflicts but I'm finding that's not the case either
Interestingly, there are rumors going around that this was staged. I'm trying not to pay attention to rumors without proof but I'm starting to wonder....
I hate this with a passion. It all seems so damn stupid.
I'm still so confused. The meeting has been scheduled for Wednesday night ( 2 days time ).
I haven't decided if I'm going yet. I don't want this drama to derail what has been a good thing so far.
I may just submit my statement and resignation and leave it at that. Popular opinion is on my side so why make it worse?

I agree with this so much!! People have had to do that here in my town too. We have small groups that helps out the community that aren't in any organization or charitable groups, just themselves giving back. We had specific residents in town that were running their mouth and taking "donations" and selling them for money. Eventually these residents were burning through different community groups and established organizations and they would complain about each one saying they weren't helping and deliberately causing trouble. These groups did post on Facebook telling their sides of the situation, just like you suggested. Well those residents kept doing this and blaming people for not helping, blah blah blah. It didn't take long for the rest of the town to realize that these specific residents were pulling these scams and they were booted out of all the community groups in town. Sometimes you do have to stand up and tell your side to the community. Eventually the truth will come out.

You are brilliant!
After reading this I started thinking about other groups that this woman may have been a part of at her previous location.
Well. WELL.
I now have 4 witnesses to past behavior willing to come with me Wednesday from 3! groups that have been similarly burned by this woman.
The question is.. do I want to take it that far?
I do- and I don't.
I feel this has taken up far more valuable time, and it's taking away from the original purpose of the group.
I'm also being asked to submit my name for board president by the majority of the board for the upcoming term. So I'm being supported ( now ).
I still don't trust any of them to have my back should anything happen. And if I replace the Pres shit will happen.

[Comment was deleted, but basically said, "Wear your coat to the meeting, and bring the receipt for it!"]

I don't think I need to bring the receipt. They are all aware of when I got my coat, and what I paid for it.
I'm being told there are 2 board members who seem to think I'm blowing this out of proportion ( Pres and Treasurer ) and should just take the reprimand ' maturely'.
When ( if ) I go in Wednesday I'm just going to tell then simply that I feel I no longer have the trust required for my appointed position, and am respectfully resigning to prevent further drama.
Pass in my official resignation and walk away.
I've also discovered the emergency meeting is to consider 3 resignations-not just mine.

OP, defend yourself!!! There’s something fishy about this. Also, call CPS (anonymously?) and report her for being unstable.

No. I won't be petty and call CPS
Those kids don't deserve to be dragged into this, too.
===

Maybe you should start your own group with people you can trust?

I've actually been thinking of a fringe group for more rural locations that don't fall.within community boundaries.
This may just be divine intervention in disguise.

Update. The meeting.
My apologies This will be long.
As I parked, there were a couple that stopped to say hi, but the majority of the board did not acknowledge me. My accuser though.. she had a great laugh at my expense, and literally taunted me in front of the others on the way in. 'ooh here for more, are you? Guess you didn't get enough of me yet' and blows me a kiss.
She showed up with the Pres. I feel that's relevant. Especially seeming as she ran home.
The meeting started at 6 pm. I was not allowed to sit at the table until the issue was brought up... I sat, alone, for over 45 minutes. Finally someone peeked outside at 6:53 ( to see if I was still there? ) and called me in.
My accuser wasn't there. I say down and the first thing said to me was ' well. We may have made a mistake' followed by this big flowery apology that stank of bullshit and was gaslit better than a propane stove.
'You know that when a complaint comes in, we have to investigate it'
At that point I just exploded. Like... I didn't even talk to my kids like that when they were babies. It was the kind of tone you have when talking to the very simplest of minds.
I told them there's a massive difference between investigating and outright accusing, and that I didn't appreciate how their ineptitude at leading a board nearly derailed the whole organization and just put a really bad light on what we were doing. She says ' by unanimous decision, we've decided not to accept your resignation. Welcome back'
I've likely been this confused before, but I don't remember when. I was expecting this to be much harder. I had a factual speech ready and everything. Walked in and it was just 'we oopsied, oh well teehee'
'Well that's unfortunate that you refuse to accept it, because it's given and I'm not rescinding it. I'm out. And it seems you all know exactly why. For those who have reached out to me- I'll consider your offer of leading this board, but at this time, I'm not comfortable with the lack of trust and transparency I'm seeing. ' and left.
My phone has been blowing up all night. I meant to update immediately but it just kept ringing and tinging. I don't even know how so many found out ( good old gossip is my guess ) but I had over 30 calls and just as many texts/social media messages.
So. What hspprned while i was waiting outside.
My accuser decided to get on something pre-meeting. Literally acted like a wild animal at one point. I'm told it was so bad that the police and Child Protection Services were called by 4 of 5 ladies present, and when told they were called, my accuser took off running home. That's a whole 'nother story. The kids are now safe, I'm told. There's that.
The versions I'm hearing are surprisingly similar, for once. So I'm going to tell you the events as I was told.
Pres' husband is apparently an addict. Who gets his stash from the sis in law/accuser. I'm not clear on the details but I'm told blackmail was involved. Common word says she threatened to spill the beans on hubby. You know how it goes. Get hurt, get prescription, get hooked, get cheaper street drugs because they're cheaper and no doctor regulates them/questions your dose. There's a rumor he is also sleeping with sustained in law but this is not confirmed... but has been going around for the better part of a year now. Maybe I should start listening to more rumors because I had no idea.
Accuser started off normal, if ' twitchy'. She went to the washroom and shit allegedly went sideways not long after she came out. At one point she was laying on the floor, ' slithering and grunting' like an animal'. I wish I could have seen it, but kinda glad I didn't.
When Accuser left, it swayed the remaining 2 votes my way. There was a discussion on how to ' handle' me where the Pres just said she'll follow the board on the vote after they shot down her suggestion that the complaint still be addressed. The way she glared at me when I came in ( yes, wearing my coat! ) tells me she was not happy about it either.
The vote was unanimous to keep me. I did not wish to stay after all that.
Tomorrow they have an open board meeting to tell people what happened, as transparency is ironically a promise we made to the community so they know exactly who and what they're supporting. I won't be there. But a lot of angry and confused people will be. I'm glad I'll be missing it, but I have a feeling I'll hear all about it. I'm told there will be some calling for Pres' resignation. We shall see, I guess.
I started this feeling lower than low. Tonight I'm surrounded by positivity and I feel GOOD about this decision. Is this Karma? It feels like Karma.
Steps are already being taken to form what we will call The Fringe Farm. We will collect fresh farm goods donated by local farmers and deliver to homes that need a little extra, focusing on those that live between communities and people new to rural life. Eventually I hope to offer clothing and household goods, but I need to find a source outside the community so I'm not taking from the original group.
I also have a preliminary board. Comprised of 3 of 5 members of the original board haha
I've told then they have to finish their term at the group (because they do damn good work, and it's not fair to those that need them to just walk away-hypocritical? Msybe. But i refuse to torpedo the group ). 2 still submitted resignations because they're just floored by that last meeting. Theirs was depending upon mine, so their exit meetings are being scheduled for next week. Because they no longer have a secretary to record minutes I'm being asked to. I'm also being asked to submit my name for Pres should the current one agree to resign.
I haven't decided if I will. I feel that will come across as petty, and tbh it's no longer my business.
Thank you for the encouragement. I'm not sure if I would have had the courage to attend if not for the overwhelming kindness and support shown here. By strangers. * shakes head*. You have no idea how much this meant to me when I needed it.
Thank you.

Update #2.
The open meeting was a shitshow, I'm told.
Pres was called to resign. Refused.
So the board resigned. The group is now being led by the Pres and that's it. So it's essentially dead. You need minimum 3 board members to continue as a registered charity/nonprofit. Nobody ( out of approx 50 ppl ) raised a hand when asked if they wanted to join.
The Fringe Farm, by comparison, has more volunteers than we can organize. This is the group started after you lovely folks helped me decide staying wasn't worth the trouble.
I have mixed feelings over this. One.. it's nice to feel validated. The other... I really don't like how this went down for too many reasons to count.
Our first task as a new org?
Writing an iron clad policy everyone agrees with. Including specific steps to collect, file and address complaints or concerns.
Reminder - I am not the original poster.
🔴🔴🔴
Some People... ( update 2 ) Posted March 28th 2023
Update #2
The Aftermath
It's been... interesting.
The old group has dissolved. Nobody wanted to work with the pres anymore after all that. They held an emergency meeting to try to figure out why most of the board submitted their resignations and it was a shitshow of Pres accusing the remaining board members of conspiring against her, which caused the last remaining board members to also resign over time.
My new board ( Fringe Farm ) is thriving. We've taken over collection and distribution in our area and 2 others as we've merged with 2 other small groups to tap more resources.
Imagine my shock and surprise when the original offender called my Treasurer and asked to be put on the list... of course we did help her but we took the Secretary's minivan and all 7 of us went as a group. When we got there it was the former Pres husband that answered the door.
Our first task was to have an ironclad board policy that states anyone accused of wrongdoing will be spoken to privately by the pres and vice pres ( neither are me-i prefer to work behind the scenes ) prior to anything else.
I'm hearing rumors that the former board pres (P) isn't doing well. When the shit hit the fan her husband left her for sis in law and they've been ' methed up ' ever since.
I honestly feel bad for her. They have no kids and now it's just her... we are having a meeting next week and I believe we are going to invite P onto our board in a non-authority role. After hearing everything that went down afterwards... she's had to get a job and they're currently trying to sell their house amid divorce proceedings so I guess the rumor he was getting a little more than drugs from sis in law was accurate after all. Rumors say P is in massive debt thanks to her husband addiction. I don't think she should have to go through it all alone. I also think her situation was causing her an immense amount of stress and that's why everything happened as it did. She knows she messed up. There's no need to rubbing salt in her wounds.
Reflection:
This has been a very eye opening experience into how our personal lives can seriously affect our moods and actions, I think.
We never really know what someone else is going through, and why they behave the way they do. Part of me wishes I knew so I could have handled it better on my end. Part of me is still raging/hurt at how it all went down.
Hurt people hurt people. It's sad but so very true.
Original post : https://www.reddit.com/EntitledPeople/comments/11cmv5l/some_people/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button
Update #1 : https://www.reddit.com/EntitledPeople/comments/124id5some_people_updates/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button
Some additional comments

You are very kind to want to help someone who tried to ruin your reputation. If you ask her to join your new organization, this should be contingent on a very serious conversation about a lot of subjects. Her husband left her for a family member and drugs, and that's pretty fucked up and awful. However, that doesn't give her an excuse to take it out on someone who wasn't even remotely involved. If this kind of behavior is out of character for her, then sure, have the discussion. If this is how she always is, save yourself a major headache and just let her go. As for the SIL, she should be put on some kind of a list. Stop helping her.

OOP:
Sis in law is not being helped by our group, but I did refer her to another that has not had dealings with her yet, and gave them a heads up that this person needs help but is unstable due to 'current life choices'. She had kids who are blameless in all this that don't deserve to be left out, should she get them back.
I think I forgot to mention that she temporarily lost her kids over her animilistic outburst at the meeting? Too many witnesses and too many complaints I guess. And as her and P's husband are blowing through cash like theres no tomorrow on drugs its unlikely to resolve itself anytime soon.
( and yes, its been confirmed that at least 1 of the 3 children are P's husbands, possibly 2 )
As for P... I feel for her. I really do think all of this was a desperate control tactic because she had none in her personal life. I get it.. I think. My life, from the outside, looks perfect. Good kids, great partner, great and satisfying job, decent home & car ... and people ( seem to ) like me.
I don't want her left alone. Depression is a terrible thing, and it makes no sense to help a community while ignoring someone within it that's obviously not ok.
I will definitly proceed with caution in case P has not learned her lesson but leaving her out feels wrong.

Please forgive me for being incredibly late to these posts - I’ve just read the whole saga through (twice!) as it takes me back to a former life where my role included managing volunteers and ah, the memories this brings back! These kind of voluntary groups do amazing work (and you sound like a truly fantastic individual, OP) but it can get so messy and so cliquey and people can become very protective of their little fiefdoms. These groups are fantastic when all is going well, but once things start going wrong it can all fall apart incredibly quickly. The only way round it (as you’re doing) is to have robust and even-handed policies in place and stick to them. I know you’re not doing this for praise or thanks, but I do think you should recognise your own value and allow yourself at the very least a tiny pat on the back, not because of this situation per se, but because the speed with which you’ve established your new group and how quickly your old group fell apart without you indicates what an effective and impactful leader you are. Even if you don’t see yourself that way, it’s clearly how your community does.

OOP:
We offered one-time temporary help. Our unofficial misdion is 'we don't refuse anyone because we don't know their story'.
I also think many of our volunteers were curious/nosy and that's why we've been able to have such a large group so quickly. Sadly, I'm well aware that some help just for the gossip and we haven't been operational long enough to root those out yet to divert to positions where they can't collect potentially harmful gossip.
The second request she made ( the very next week... making her total 3x requests for clothing & food over 3 weeks just over our 2 groups ) was passed on to another group as nobody wanted to get involved, and I'm not allowed to get involved on my own ( our by-law to prevent drama: 'Once a conflict has been reported the accused is not to have any involvement with the donation or distribution of goods to the accuser.' This also serves to protect our volunteers from frivolous accusations or personal vendettas. )
REMINDER: Do not comment in posts linked here. It is a violation of Rule 7

[(This is a repost of the one I accidentally gave title of Not so dubious duo, part 17, which was my mistake as that part is already out.)]
The undead numbers have taken a massive hit, which, would be a good thing but, as Jakan took off his helmet after entering the castle courtyard. I see worry in his face, it made me ponder why he is worried. Jakan looked into my eyes, mouth moved with the intent to speak his mind but, stopped and closed it quickly.
'How many did you slay? Jakan.' Lankensy asks happily, contrast between the warrior's perception of the situation is worrying.
'Thirty one, you?' Jakan replies, keeping his worries hidden from Lankensy, my guess is that he is waiting for a more appropriate time to voice his concerns.
'Thirty eight. That was a great battle we have won.' Lankensy says and smiles warmly.
'What is the state of the battalion you lead?' Jakan asks calmly, slowly warming up to the atmosphere that surrounds us. I am certain that he still is worried about something.
'Out of the four hunded fifty, two hundred seventy eight wounded, of which eighty seven are more major wounds and require lengthy recovery time.' Lankensy states thinking about it.
Jakan looked at me and his expression is mildly horrified, he quickly regains his composure and looks back to Lankensy. 'Sir Lankensy, I wish for a meeting to take place before darkness in the same courtyard has yesterday.' Jakan replies in calm tone.
Lankensy looked at Jakan with confusion clearly shining from his eyes, two warrior's stare into each others eyes. Lankensy's confusion turned into mild worry. 'Yes, we shall.' He says to Jakan, and they both shake hands. He whispered something to Jakan quickly but, I didn't hear it myself.
Jakan became mildly relieved and nodded to Lankensy, maybe in agreement of something. We returned to our tents in one of the many courtyards in this castle. 'Time for me to explain.' Jakan says to me, expecting correctly that I have intention on asking him of what just happened.
'With such high losses, the enemy is more than surely going to change tactics. With a victory like this... It is more than perfect moment for commence subterfuge of some kind... This still is a victory but, I fear that we might have escalated this conflict...
Worst is, these are no feral or dark arcane maddened undead, we already know that this is more organized conflict. I believe you are familiar with a paragraph, our enemies most likely have asked from each other.' Jakan says with shadow dragon language, for those not dragons themselves.
'There must be, a better way...' Reply in same language, and realize the worst case scenarios. The town is still primed for recruiting followers from inside of it. Jakan nods to me and looks mildly content that I am now understanding him.
'I still need to ask for how many have wounded but, I suspect they are greater than what Tyrelia told us, there is always more casualties than first reports say there is. Severity and numbers are what I am most concerned of. Past me really would consider present me, completely mad...' Jakan says and reflects on his past quickly.
'What about you? Are you okay?' Ask from him, mildly amused of the expression which flashed on Jakan's face in the moment of reflection into what used to be.
Jakan looked at himself, felt around his body and looked at his armor. 'I am fine, some mean bruises from attacks armor protected me from but, nothing I haven't experienced before.' Jakan replies in his more usual tone, thinks a moment, this prompted me to pull out our logbooks from our tents.
'Thank you Volarie.' He says to me, receiving his own logbook from me and we commence writing on our logbooks, even some of our personal thoughts on the situation. Thinking back to the moment of victory and after having a sobering conversation with Jakan, about our situation. The contrast is mildly dizzying.
'I can see you are almost completely unscathed from the battle. I am going to guess, the tally you accumulated only counts for the actual joining of battle, and most of them from the counter attack.' Jakan says, which prompted me to think back on the battle.
How unfazed I was with the situation, I started to think of myself crazy for doing something like that. 'Yes. What was the what you did with Lankensy about, before the operation?' Reply, pulling myself back together and, promising to myself that, never again, preferably.
We stopped writing into our logbooks. 'Oh, that, just a warrior's punt... I owe him a drink.' Jakan says, only now realizing, that he lost against Lankensy on the bet. Mildly embarrassed but, also glad that it isn't anything worse than that.
Smiling warmly to Jakan and blink slowly to him. 'I have a feeling that it isn't a drink he is interested on, from you.' Say with smug smile on my lips.
Jakan is sorting his considerations and, seems to have arrived to a conclusion of what I am meaning. 'Great... Well, might as well ready myself to receive a hearty kick in the rear from him... No shame in loosing to a better.' Jakan replies, not too eager to face Lankensy in a mock duel.
'Correct.' Say to him with a warm smile. Jakan looked mildly annoyed, I suspect, that he would have preferred to take it easy tomorrow and spend more time on preparing for what he suspect is to follow but, he started to rub his knuckles and looked calm again. That is the Jakan I prefer.
We have a good chance to get to know the heroes of the riven war better tomorrow. Valerians will receive reinforcements and a convoy will arrive, ready to be escorted to the town, it should lessen the risk of betrayal in the town but, tough to not be concerned. It is Lankensy's home town... He would not respond well to something ill befalling to it.
'I think, I do look forward to the tomorrow. Although, and I am quite sure that, even you are concerned.' Jakan says with content tone.
'I am, area control wise, I am guessing we are in a lot better position now.' Reply to him calmly.
'We are, well, armed forces of Valerie are... We should soon receive a letter from our lords. Hopefully, nothing new, or something about why you were almost assassinated.' Jakan says in mildly content tone. He wants to motivate me, to keep doing my best here. I do feel slightly more motivated to continue doing my best.
'Pretty sure, that was your second time of battling without me, considering how you came out from it, I believe. You should try to work more autonomously, don't worry. I will advice with best of my ability.' Jakan adds, he knows me well. I nod to him deeply and we embrace each other lightly for a moment.
'Hopefully, no more large battles for me. Would like to get back to being an agent. These conflicts are your area of strength.' Say warmly to him. I thought back to the lessons about the shadow dragon organization history, how different it is from, back then, and how it is now.
'They most surely are, I am not that good with infiltration as you are but, it would be difficult to call me clumsy about stealth.' Jakan replies, reading his face, seems to be thinking about tomorrow. Resting a little bit longer, it is almost night, when the next meeting commenced.
Present are all of the castle commanders and heroes of the Riven War. 'I believe we may begin the meeting.' Kyrem says in slightly serious tone, getting attention of everybody currently present.
'Yes, how did your battle go? Castle commanders.' Lankensy replies interested to hear the answer.
'Cavalry and cavalry archer forces did their part amazingly, the undead inflicted small casualties to our battalions, rate is about five of thirty, from what I heard, your battalion took on force of three to one.' Salgi replies happily.
'Yes, seven out of ten are wounded. Thankfully, we destroyed their formations to the last. I sense that you are not too merry of this situation Jakan.' Lankensy states but, ponders what Jakan is so grim about.
'I fear we may have escalated this conflict, these type of losses force enemy command to look for other options.' Jakan replies thinking of the possibilities.
'Prudent of you, agent. I wonder why you did not become a general or a captain in Ghaudun.' Tynzio states with respect.
'All high military ranking positions are also political influence positions. That is why I am not there. I love battle, it is my lords, that taught me to diversify skill set and, how to be an agent, while also having warrior's heart.' Jakan replies setting aside his worries for a moment.
'Well stated. What should we expect then?' Tynzio says calmly. I look at Lankensy, a smirk came to his lips. I am correct on the assumption, that he very much would like to mock duel with Jakan, with a quick glance to Jakan, he seems to have verified my assumption himself too.
'That is something I am not all too sure of. While we might have confirmed that our opponent has some idea of military movement and deployment... I do not know how sophisticated or inventive they are on using dark arcane. I mostly faced undead myself, with few cases of dark arcane maddened individuals.' Jakan replies, taking a pause to see how others react.
'Then, it will be our scouts that will be our eyes and ears of what are our enemy planning.' Salgi says calmly but, having some seriousness in his voice, probably understanding the scope of Jakan's statement.
'I expect you to continue doing your best Volarie, although, both of us should begin to target their critical personnel. About time we get to do what we were primarily trained for.' Jakan says.
'I agree, Jakan.' Reply to Jakan warmly.
'Considering such aim, do you think it is better for our scouts to focus on the war itself and keep gathering enemy movements?' Salgi asks.
'Have few scouts look for anything that could be high value targets. Inform me, and I will take the information forward to Jakan and Volarie.' Kyrem replies.
'Understood sir.' Salgi says acknowledging the order. The meeting continued with discussion of what the army should do in future, where to establish new outposts and supply situation.
Then we all went to go get some sleep. 'You are very correct on the assumption of Lankensy desiring to combat me in a mock duel, I feel nostalgic almost, more from the warrior side of me, of course.' Jakan says as we walk.
'Well, tomorrow we also will have chances to get more better acquainted. Something that both sides have been needing here.' Reply, Jakan hummed in an agreeing manner. We quickly embrace each other and go get some sleep.
Next morning, I woke up feeling normal. Once I exited tent and looked around, it is telling that Valerian soldiers have realized their casualties, this is a quiet and soul moment. I prepare everything for both of us, as I open a ration pack for both of us, remembered that this is the day when a supply caravan should arrive and reinforcements, mages of Valerie...
Heard shuffling of movement in Jakan's tent, he has awakened now. As he exited the tent, he looked around. 'Good morning Volarie.' He says calmly.
'Good morning Jakan. The Valerians will receive reinforcements today.' Reply to him.
'Yes, it should improve the morale among the Valerian soldiers. Hopefully they won't be too weird. We should talk with Seirialia about them, to have some kind of idea what kind of people we will need to work with.' Jakan states, thinking about what is happening today.
'Agreed, thankfully I can go quite unnoticed but, quite sure you will be hissing louder than a kettle when you just want a moment of peace from all the questions.' Reply to him.
'I, so, look forward to that...' Jakan says mildly irritated by the idea of it, while I keep my amusement hidden. We eat our rations and drink water. When we were done, we walk to the eastern gate, guessing that heroes of the Riven war would be there to receive the supply caravan and the mages.
They arrived there as we did, I see the light in Lankensy's eyes as the five approach us, he is carrying two wooden two handed swords. Jakan just looked at his to be opponent in a mock duel. 'So, I believe I owe you a drink, right?' Jakan asks in tone invoking camaraderie.
'Not exactly but, something better.' Lankensy says as approaches Jakan face to face and gives him a wooden sword.
'Know that it is a honor to face you, sir.' Jakan replies as he receives the mock blade from Lankensy.
'There will be no honor here, just two souls, whose passion, is battle.' Lankensy says joyously, as they both take distance from everybody in the courtyard and take positions at the middle of this open space. Some of the soldiers have stopped what they are doing.
First blade contact happened a lot faster than I expected, which seems to have taken Jakan by surprise but, he presses his defense forward to stabilize the situation. Lankensy is happy with this, I saw Jakan smile as they orbit each other as their blades have contact.
It takes longer than all of us expected but, Lankensy finally scores technical skill hit on Jakan, the blow looked like it would hurt but, Jakan didn't even budge, they both took distance from each other and prepare for the next round. From what I see of Jakan's posture, I think he is thinking about change of battle form.
He then nodded to Lankensy, that he is ready. They approach each other again and take their stances, second round, began. This time after blocking first two strikes from Lankensy, Jakan changed his posture, standing straight, grip of the blade only on right hand and left arm set wide.
Lankensy saw the change of posture as he attacks again, Jakan quickly parries it and grabs Lankensy's weapon hand, while his blade moved quickly to Lankensy's right arm pit. Point scored by Jakan this time. They separate and measure each other.
It's a tie currently, Lankensy is smiling widely and rubs his chin quickly, this most certainly has to have come as something very unexpected from Jakan, to have learned a little bit more sophisticated and elegant fighting style. Jakan is pondering his next move.
Usually clashes like this are best out of three, I believe in Jakan, but, for a moment, realized something about his blade movement and foot work there, it was way too instinctual, he is still learning it. It is very clear that he has good understanding of how to do it but, he needs more experience on employing more duelist type of fighting.
They nod to each other and approach. Third round, Lankensy approaches with a little bit more caution, I see that he is measuring Jakan's posture and size of him. Jakan extends his arm fully forward, blade at the center, waiting for Lankensy to attack.
He does attack and from what I can see, he tries to not win Jakan with skill, instead, using his strength a lot more, this caught Jakan by surprise, he responds by not receiving the attacks on his blade, instead of that he pivots and uses dexterity. Lankensy keeps staying on the offensive but, has difficulties on finding an opening.
Finally Lankensy makes an opening by hitting Jakan's blade off center and reaches Jakan's gut just as Jakan's own blade was almost in position to hit Lankensy's throat. Lankensy won the duel but, while he is happy of his victory.
'I have to say, employing that type of fighting was completely unexpected and, you have some knack for it too. That round could have gone for either of us, good fight sir.' Lankensy says, being respectful and excited of the duel.
'Yes, I still need more experience but, I am glad we had this duel, makes this old draconian feel a little bit younger again.' Jakan replies respecting Lankensy.
'Now that was something to behold Jakan, many of your kind tend to employ more strength oriented fighting styles. I am looking forward to have a sparring match with you one day.' Tyrelia says warmly. Jakan seems to have mixed feelings but, eventually turns slightly serious.
'Any time, lady Tyrelia.' Jakan replies calmly as receives the mock blade from Lankensy and gives them to a soldier who was watching the fight who nodded in respectful manner to him, Jakan nodded back respectfully, he then returns next to me.
The gate started opening and the supply caravan and carriages carrying the mages begin entering the courtyard. So much for talking with Seirialia about them. There is some teachers among them and they begin coordinating the students of varying age to disembark the carriages.
Some of the students are looking at both of us with interest, prejudice and confusion. Then I notice one of them staring at Jakan more particularly, she seems to be a human... Jakan is looking what is happening and then looks into the mage's eyes.
Lankensy is greeting the mages along with Kyrem, Tyrelia, Trenon and Seirialia. 'Lankensy, why are there Ghaudunians here?' The young lady asks, Jakan let out an audible, huh. As I look at him, it seems that he recognizes the voice and the face of the lady.
'I can explain.' Both Lankensy and Jakan reply quickly as possible. While I am still confused on what is going on. Jakan looked into my eyes. Lankensy is also a little confused how both of he and Jakan said the same thing at the same time.
'Volarie, she is a member of Valerie's royal family...' Jakan says terribly worried of the situation. We bow deeply and keep our heads down.
'Princess Jiakyn, they are here to help us with the undead crisis we have here. They are agents of shadow dragons.' Lankensy says with very respectful tone.
'We believed that you heroes would have been able to handle this completely without any help. Why are they helping us?' Princess Jiakyn asks with pressuring tone and wanting answers.
'This, unfortunately is our first time of fighting undead and, my home town is danger. So, we went to talk with their lords to draft a friendship treaty, they agreed to place agent Jakan and Volarie under our command.' Lankensy explains and we stand straight again.
'Is this so, speak agents.' Princess Jiakyn states straightly, she sounds slightly smug of the situation.
'It is so, your highness. I have extensive knowledge and experience of fighting the undead, so, my lords sent me.' Jakan replies cueing me to speak next with his words.
'It as sir Lankensy stated, your highness. I might be young and new to the organization but, I am good at scouting and if required, infiltrate enemy controlled areas, which is why my lords sent me.' Say feeling slightly nervous of the situation.
'We are to assist, guide, fight and protect, the heroes of the Riven war.' We state same time and wait how she will respond.
'Why wasn't I told?' Princess Jiakyn asks accusatively from Lankensy, who is having difficulty to formulate a response.
'My apologies for interjecting, your highness. We requested our involvement to be kept secret from general populace and individuals of political influence, due to the political situation of both nations. Accept our apology for acting how we saw best for all involved.' Say calmly, with some regret and apologetically. I heard Jakan breath in stressed manner but, relaxed slightly when I had spoken.
Princess seems to be slightly taken aback by our response to her question, she is somewhat shrewd of the situation. She gave away her response before she spoke it. 'I understand agents of the shadowy ones. You have conducted yourselves logically within our kingdom.' Princess Jiakyn says in a more fair and friendly tone.
'My apologies princess but, I believe you were ordered to strictly stay at the academy grounds. I am quite sure that the king and queen are quite against of you being here.' Seirialia says calmly. That invoked some alarm on the princess.
'May we speak in private heroes, agents?' Princess Jiakyn replies quickly composing herself, retaining her confident tone but, clearly there is a small crack in that voice that hints, that, yes. She shouldn't be here.

First of all, and based on the resumes I've seen here something I think needs to be said, a resume is a marketing tool. It is not a background check confession form.
What I mean by this is that you don't need to put everything you've ever done on a resume. Typically, in the corporate world, until you are much more senior, you only get one page. So be efficient with that space! It doesn't matter if you are proud of something, it doesn't matter if it was difficult, it just matters if it helps you get a job.
So if you're trying to get a job as a project manager, for instance, it's not super relevant to say, "Planned and executed engaging math lessons for sixth graders". That's great, and you should be proud of having done that, but how will that make you a great PM? Instead, you might want to go with, "Led campus improvement committee in analyzing various data streams and implementing widespread initiatives that resulted in 15% fewer disciplinary infractions". That hits several things that suggest you have serious PM skills.
"But hold on man, I haven't done anything like that!"
That brings us to another topic. How can you lie on a resume? And my rule would be...don't tell a lie that can get smoked out. If you say you're super knowledgeable on computer networking, I'm gonna hone in on that during the interview and ask enough questions to find out exactly what that means. If you say you earned your PhD at Harvard, that's going to come up on the background check. BUT...if you were simply a member of the campus improvement committee, not the actual leader, yet you can speak intelligently to what that team did and how they did it, you can get away with saying you led it. Nobody's going to verify the complete validity of that, and former employers are really only allowed to say what your title was, and when you held it with them.
And again, I don't care how much of your time was spent on a given thing. Obviously, if you were a teacher, most of your time would have been spent planning and executing lessons. Maybe that committee met once a month. It's still more relevant to your desired next position, so focus on it.
Next, make the bullets strong. We should already be doing this by taking out some of the job description stuff as I described previously, but try to focus not just on what you did but what affect it had. And again, this is a place where you can stretch the truth a bit. If you were the algebra team lead, it's OK to state that your leadership efforts resulted in a 12% increase on whatever standardized test. Nobody's going to check that. But again, action => effect.
Now, your resume should have a number of sections. Typically, it will start with an introduction/overview. My last used resume had this:

I am an experienced system administratonetwork administrator and former military officer with a proven record of successful leadership in high stress situations. My goal is to join a high-performing Information Technology team where I can effectively use my leadership and technical expertise.

Strong, concise, focused, describes me in a way that sounds cool. Don't be bland. Show enthusiasm and clear intent as to where you want to go. Make me want you on my team.
After that, you'll have a number of sections. Skills, experience, education are pretty much always present. However, you can change the order, and you should based on what's most relevant. When I was getting into tech, I had been a teacher and a military officer, so I moved experience down, and inserted a "projects" section near the top where I described several things I had completed in my homelab. I also put certifications near the top since those demonstrate my knowledge. For me, education goes at the bottom because my degrees are not related to tech (but some corporations really care about degrees so they still need to be shown). On my next job search, I'll put experience first and foremost because I've got two years of IT stuff to talk about, drop projects entirely, and then list certifications, skills, and education at the end. Don't even include "references available upon request" because it's obvious and it simply consumes space.
Lastly, formatting. Somebody else can talk about ATS compliancy if they want; I don't know much about that. Regardless, this shouldn't be artsy. Black text, white background, same font throughout (and a boring one, like TNR or Arial), size 9-10 for the bodies, 12 or so (and bold) for your name, put some plain black border lines between sections to break the thing up.
And really nail it with verb agreement (past tense, present tense, don't care, just match it throughout), periods at the end of bullets (yes, no, don't care, just don't vary from place to place), spelling, grammar, and so on. Would I throw someone's resume out because they had two different fonts and misspelled one word? Personally, no, but someone else would, and it costs nothing to be perfect in this area, so just do it.

I had been hiking down the Appalachian Trail for over two weeks without issue on the day when the nightmare began. My friend, X, was by my side the entire time. It was, quite honestly, comforting to have someone who stood nearly six-and-a-half feet tall with me, especially during the long, dark nights when the howling of coyotes drew near. Black bears, too, were a constant presence in these dark mountains. As we got farther from towns and civilization, more ancient predators than human beings took over the land, stalking the night like creeping shadows.
For this trip, we both had bought as few supplies as possible. Included in our packs were MREs, two sleeping bags, some tarps and hammocks, some light clothing, and two pistols with a few boxes of ammo. We didn’t want to be too weighed down that we wouldn’t be able to move fast, after all. We would source water from the streams, waterfalls and lakes along the way and filter it using Lifestraws.
As the spring breeze blew past us, cooling the sweat on my face, I noticed the trail ahead of us weaving its way through thick swampland. The buzzing of flies and mosquitoes increased with every step. The green, fetid waters of the swamp bubbled constantly, as if it were whispering secrets to us.
“Ah, shit,” X said, glancing down the hill with his dark, serious eyes. His tanned skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Another swamp. I hate swamps. You know there’s going to be a million mosquitoes and flies down there.” I pulled out the map, squinting down at it. I ran my finger down the trail, seeing the mountains and valleys we had already passed.
“The trail shouldn’t be going through any swamps,” I said. “They’re supposed to be marked. There’s no ponds or anything around here.” And yet there very clearly was. Either we were in a different spot than I thought we were, or the map was outdated. The trail also grew thinner as we descended. The sharp branches of the bushes stuck out like greedy hands, grabbing at our backpacks and clothes as we pressed forward.
“Well, whatever,” X said gruffly, plowing ahead. Twigs cracked under his massive bulk. The thin branches hanging across the path snapped as he plowed forward. I let him go first, since he was significantly bigger than myself. It was like following in the path of a bull.
“The faster we move, the faster we’ll be through it. We don’t want to camp anywhere around here when it gets dark,” X continued, looking grim. “We’ll be eaten alive by bugs by sunrise. We need to make it to the other side of these boglands before we can stop for the night.”
“Yeah, and I could use some more water,” I said, shaking my mostly empty canteen. “I wouldn’t drink this shit no matter what we did to it. It probably has brain-eating parasites crawling in it.” I checked my watch, realizing that dusk was only a half hour away. We would have to move fast indeed, especially as we didn’t know the size of the swamp. I was not enthusiastic about hiking in the dark with the many steep trails and sharp rocks that covered the surrounding land. A single misstep could lead to a very long, bone-shattering fall.
To my increasing dismay, I realized that the trail we were on no longer had the characteristic white markings of the Appalachian Trail. I kept checking the trees for the past fifteen minutes, and I definitely hadn’t seen a single one. I couldn’t remember the last time we had passed one, but I had a creeping suspicion it had been at least a couple hours ago.
“I think we have a problem, man,” I whispered. “I don’t know how it possibly could have happened, but I think we’re on the wrong trail.”
“There’s not supposed to be any other trails around here,” X argued. “Check the map.”
“Then where’s the white blazes? There’s not supposed to be any boglands around here, either, yet we’re walking through the middle of one,” I said. He shook his head.
“Listen, Ben, there’s not going to be markers on the entire Appalachian Trail,” he said. “Just trust me. We’re on the right path. Sometimes forests change. Swamps take over spots where forests used to lay. Hell, the Sahara Desert has been expanding for thousands of years, just eating the forests and plains all around it. There used to be lions and savannah in Morocco, and now it’s all dead and dry.”
I felt doubtful, but I continued forwards, following closely behind X. Neither one of us had ever done the full Appalachian Trail, after all. I hoped he was right. I was not enthusiastic about backtracking two or three hours if he wasn’t.
I thought back closely on our travels during the last few hours, wondering where we could have gone wrong. The trail had been rather overgrown and rocky on the peak of the last mountain. There had been a beautiful view spanning hundreds of miles, looking far off into state forests and winding roads. I remembered seeing the white marker near the top, but after we had started descending, it disappeared. That must have been where we went wrong, if we did, indeed, go off-course. But I couldn’t be sure, and I didn’t tell X about my suspicions.
We finished descending a steep, rocky trail into a valley where the boglands really started. The trees ended in a massive semi-circle around the open swamp. Thick peat covered the entire surface of it like rotted, grayish-brown skin. I saw water snakes quietly disappearing into the stagnant water, leaving behind slowly expanding ripples.
“This is pretty cool,” I said, stopping for a moment at the bottom of the trail to admire the boglands. Our trail continued directly through the center of it, no more than a raised patch of black earth surrounded by green swampy water. I could hear the many insects chirping and flying before we even took a step forward. Though the spring air felt warm and I was covered in sweat, I still reached into my bag, taking out a windbreaker that would cover up my arms and neck to help with the bugs. X did the same.
“Let’s move fast,” he said, giving me a knowing look. He was a much faster hiker than myself. He seemed like a machine sometimes, tireless and single-minded. I had seen him hike over twenty miles in a single day without looking too bent out of shape. I gave him a faint half-smile, picking up my pace.
“You know what they used to say about the boglands?” I asked X. He shook his head.
“I don’t read books,” he said. “If I have time to sit down and read, then it means I have time to go out and do something actually fun. But I’m sure you know all about it.” I gave a short bark of laughter at his off-handed insult. It sounded far too loud echoing back to us through the creepy swamp. The last rays of sunlight were disappearing behind the mountains now. Soon, we would be plunged into darkness.
“Well, in ancient times, people thought the boglands a place where the walls of reality were thin, where the gods would come through. They used to bring their victims out to swamps during rituals, then they would slice their throats or strangle them and dump their bodies into the bogs as an offering to the gods. They also said that strange, shape-shifting creatures would appear, sometimes to deceive travelers, other times to help them,” I said. “But as for human sacrifices, the bogs preserve bodies like nothing else, except maybe tar pits. Archaeologists keep finding victims with slashed throats or shattered skulls buried underneath the peat.”
X was silent for a long moment as we continued walking along the raised patch of earth that formed the trail. We got farther and farther from the forests, until the swamp seemed like a fetid ocean, spanning out to the horizon in every direction.
“Do you think they used to do that kind of stuff around here?” X asked.
“Used to?” I exclaimed, laughing. “I’m sure some psychopaths still do. This is a good place to dump a body, after all. Who the hell wants to trek through the muck and the snakes and mosquitoes out here looking for corpses?”
“The FBI and the cops will do it,” he said, “if they think there’s something to find.” I was about to respond when an ear-splitting shriek echoed out all around us. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from at first. X’s tan skin seemed to go pale as he spun, glancing in every direction.
“What the fuck is that?!” he screamed over the deafening wailing. I didn’t believe in cryptids, but my anxious mind immediately offered up an image of a banshee, a woman with chalk-white skin and black eyes whose shrieking jaw unhinged like a snake’s.
“I’m turning around!” I yelled, pointing back for emphasis. “Dude, fuck this! We need to get out of this swamp!” But X was no longer listening. He was looking past me, his mouth open and his eyes wild. He started backpedaling and nearly fell into the swamp. Windmilling his arms crazily, he turned and sprinted away without a word.
I was afraid to look back. The screaming was getting louder by the second, shaking the air all around me in deafening, crashing waves of sound. I felt like my head would explode if it got any worse. Instinctively, I took off after X, but I glanced back for a single moment before I did. Something loomed there from a nightmare, standing as tall as the trees. It moved through the swamp like a snake, its body slithering through the stagnant green waters towards us. When it met my eyes, the screaming stopped. The abrupt silence seemed deafening. I could hear the fervent pounding of my heart in my ears.
The creature’s skin looked honeycombed and rough, almost like a wasp’s nest. The thousands of tiny holes covering its body constantly opened and closed like hungry mouths. Its arms were long tentacles ending in sharp points of bone in the shape of scythes. The tentacles undulated like serpents. Its legs, too, were no more than four tentacles that alternatively slithered and stepped forward.
Its flesh was the color of peat, a sickly grayish-brown, and the smell that emanated from it was rancid and stagnant, the essence of all boglands and swamps. I nearly gagged as I ran. The putrefying stench seemed to follow me like a shadow.
Ahead of me, X was fumbling in his backpack as he ran, trying to grab his pistol. I knew he had a Glock 21 in that bag, and I had my Sig Sauer in mine. I cursed myself for not keeping it holstered on my body, but I had never had to use it before and hadn’t seriously thought I would need it for this trip. He glanced back at me, his eyes widening in horror.
“It’s right behind you!” he yelled. “Get down!” He dropped his backpack, revealing the sleek, black pistol clenched tightly in his hand. I barely had time to comprehend his words when an immense pressure and numbness radiated through my back. My head snapped backwards as a meaty thud resonated all around me. I went flying forward, feeling as if I had been struck by a car. As I flew through the air, the pain in my back exploded in burning pulses. I felt the deep slice open up from the sharp blade of bone that had slashed me like a knife. I felt trickles of blood pour from the open wound, making my stained shirt cling to my body.
I landed hard on the raised black earth of the trail, a bone-jarring impact that knocked the air out of me. At that same moment, X opened fire, pressing the trigger over and over, emptying the magazine as fast as he could. Something splashed over me, going in my eyes and mouth and nose. I crawled forward, moaning, my head spinning. I wiped my forehead, seeing spatters of green blood squirming with dark, maggot-like creatures covering my arms and face. It clung to my fingers, thick and rancid. I felt stinging sensations as the tiny worms bit me over and over. My ears rang with a high-pitched whine from the gunshots.
X was running towards me now. I continued to crawl towards him, shell-shocked and whimpering, trying to wipe the eldritch blood off my skin. With a muscular arm, he reached down and pulled me up.
“Where’d it go?” I mumbled, stumbling forward on unsteady feet. X put an arm around my shoulders and helped support me.
“It slunk back into the swamp,” he said. “Jesus, you’re bleeding really bad, buddy. We’re going to need to take care of that as soon as we get away from this hellhole.” I felt the deep slices from the creature’s blade-like hands across my back. The fabric of my shirt clung tightly to the skin as fresh blood soaked it.
“This isn’t the trail, X,” I gasped. “We went the wrong way. We need to go back.” He nodded grimly.
“We’re heading back right now. I know it’s the wrong trail now, it definitely is, but it’s dark. The trails back up the mountains are steep and dangerous, and we’ve already been hiking all day. How much longer can we really go?” he asked. In reality, I had a feeling X could go for quite a bit longer. I was the weak link in the chain, and we both knew it.
X took out a small, LED flashlight from his backpack, shining it ahead of us on the dark path. Across the center of the black earth, there was an obstruction, something that hadn’t been there when we passed this way originally.
“Shit! Is that a person?” X said, slowing down. He focused the light on it. As my eyes adjusted, I gave a gasp of horror as I saw a rough sacrificial table looming there, waiting with a ready victim.
Laying on the bare wooden planks in the center of the trail was an elderly man wearing the garb of a hunter. He was gagged, a bloody rag shoved deep into his mouth. I felt a sense of revulsion and terror as I realized his hands and feet were nailed to the planks, as if he were being crucified laying down. His eyes rolled wildly, white and insane, like a horse with a broken leg. When he saw us approaching, he tried to say something through the gag, pulling hard against the nails that bit so viciously into his flesh. Fresh rivers of blood spurted from his wounds.
I had my pistol in my hands. X had taken a fresh magazine out by now, throwing the empty one back in his backpack. Trembling, he went first, his shaking hand moving the flashlight around wildly. Its bright rays bounced off the dead, half-rotted trees that grew out of the boglands, the clouds of mosquitoes and moths that circled us constantly.
“Oh my God... he's like the victim of a serial killer or something,” he whispered, running a trembling hand over his face. “It looks like someone has set that poor guy up to have his heart cut out, like some sort of Aztec ritual.” He glanced worriedly over at me. We had both stopped cold in our tracks, looking around for any sign of danger, but we only saw the old man writhing on his rough table of torture.
“We have to keep going forward,” I whispered. “That thing is behind us. I don’t think it’s dead. I’m not sure it can even die.”
“But what’s ahead of us?” he asked grimly. “That’s the real question, isn’t it?” Far off down the trail, I saw small pinpoints of flickering light. They drew closer. We raised our pistols, waiting for the new arrivals to show themselves.
Dozens of people dressed in black, silky robes holding lamps slowly ambled their way towards us. They had their heads bowed, like monks on a holy pilgrimage. They drew close to the sacrifice. The one in the lead held a long, curving dagger whose blade looked like it was made of some kind of red volcanic rock. Its strange silver handle glittered in his pale, thin hand. At the end, I saw it was sculpted into the shape of a human heart.
“Stop right there!” X screamed, stepping forward. “Don’t come any closer! We are armed, I’m warning you.” The people in the black robes didn’t appear to hear or care in the slightest. They continued slowly following their leader with the strange dagger, almost floating forward in a nonchalant manner. Their leader began chanting in some strange, ancient language. It reminded me of Tibetan or Sanskrit in a way, like the chanting of some Vajrayana monk high up in the Himalayas. But it had a sinister, hissing quality to the words. Something ancient and powerful resonated in every syllable.
I raised the pistol, firing blankly into the dark, cloudless sky above. The smell of gunsmoke and fetid rot hung thick in the air. The leader of the group looked at me with his large, glassy eyes. His face looked sunken and pale, almost like a starving child. He had shaved all of the hair on his head, even his eyebrows. His lips were extremely thin and bloodless in his chalk-white face.
For a long moment, we stood staring at each other, my pistol aimed at his chest. X also had his pistol raised, aimed at one of those standing behind him. But the robed man didn’t speak. He gave me a faint grin.
“Let the old man go,” I commanded, my voice sounding hoarse and weak. The swamp quickly swallowed up my words, until only the buzzing of mosquitoes remained.
“I am sorry, my son, but I cannot do that,” the leader said in a voice as cold as endless space. “If we do not feed Mowdoroth, it will never sleep. The swamps will continue to expand, eating more and more of the surrounding forests and towns, and Mowdoroth, driven insane by hunger, will take far more victims in the process.
“This job has been passed down to us from generation to generation, from big hand to small, for over four centuries. Only twice has Mowdoroth not been fed on the New Moon, and each time, entire settlements full of people were wiped off the face of the Earth as if they had never existed. On one, they just had time to carve the word ‘CROATAN’ before they were taken.
“Mowdoroth looks for the place where the nightmares grow. It breaks open the chest and finds the place where the silent screams start, deep down at the base of the heart. All of the nightmares are planted there, like tiny seeds scattered during childhood. Those that fell on good soil in that abyss produced a great crop, yielding a hundredfold, sixtyfold, or thirtyfold. If you do not allow us to complete our holy mission, then you do it: cut open the man's chest and remove his beating heart. As it beats, squeeze it as hard as you can, and let all the blood drain onto the top of your head. Hold the heart above your head and close your eyes until the god appears and takes it.” The cult leader finished, looking at us with sparkling eyes, as if he had said something profound.
“This shit is just insane drivel,” X whispered in a voice as low as possible. “I say we open fire and save the old man now. Fuck these cultists.” I nodded grimly in agreement.
“You need to all turn around and leave immediately,” X yelled, stepping forward. “I will give you three seconds to turn around and get the hell out of my sight. Three…” At first, the cultists stood as still as statues, simply staring. Finally, the leader sighed and turned away. He shook his head, reminding me of a disappointed parent.
“I tried to warn you,” he said in his thin, quavering voice. “The time has come to give the offering. You must cut out this man’s heart and raise it to Mowdoroth, so he can get the seeds of nightmares freshly sown. The choice is yours now, as you have demanded this power with violence. You can leave this man here to be eaten by Mowdoroth, or free him and, in exchange, guarantee the deaths of hundreds of other people.”
With those last words, the black-robed figures continued down the curve of the trail. Within seconds, they had disappeared behind dead, half-rotted trees that still dotted the edges of the boglands. X and I ran forward toward the struggling old man. X reached into his pocket and pulled out a folding knife. He cut off the old man’s gag, pulling the spit-soaked chunk of filthy cloth out of his mouth. The old man spat and licked his dry lips.
“Get me out of here, please,” he whispered, his eyes rolling wildly. “Those cult members are all batshit insane. And there’s something not right in these swamps. I caught glimpses of something while I was waiting. There’s something in the water…”
“What’s your name, bud?” X said calmingly, looking at the old man’s hands and feet to try to decide how to best get the nails out without causing more damage.
“Winchester,” he said in a coarse voice. It sounded like he hadn’t had a drink of water in days. While X looked at his hands with the LED flashlight, I reached into my pack for the small canteen of filtered water I still had. I started pouring it into Winchester’s mouth. He gulped greedily, his throat working hard to drink down the rest of it.
“I got it!” X said, taking a flat stone he had found on the ground. “I’m going to try to pound these nails out from the bottom.”
“Oh, please, no,” Winchester said, his wrinkled face turning pale. X shook his head.
“We need to get you out of here,” he said. “It’s going to hurt, bud. But we don’t have any tools here. The nails are large, almost like railroad spikes, and once we get the top part, the bottom should slide out easily since it’s a lot narrower.” As he grabbed the rock to begin his work, a bone-chilling wailing started up again from the swamps. It was the scream of Mowdoroth, that abomination with the skin of a wasp’s nest.
“Cover us!” X yelled panickedly as he continued his grisly work. Winchester screamed in pain when X first struck the nail on his right hand. It shot up a fraction of an inch, fresh blood pooling all around it and dripping through the bare planks.
I turned, but the banshee wail seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. The swamp bubbled faster and faster all around us, as if thousands of corpses were coming back to life. I heard Winchester scream again, then the dull thud of another nail hitting the earth.
A face peeked out of the swamp, only twenty feet away. Its eyes were green, the color of a putrefying wound. Its lipless mouth opened wide, showing a spongy black mass of skin with concentric circles of tiny, razor-sharp teeth. It reminded me of the mouth of a lamprey.
I opened fire, shooting wildly at the face, aiming at the body hidden under the dark surface of the swamp. Luminescent drops of green blood exploded from a bullet hole in its upper right shoulder, floating across the surface of the water like radioactive waste.
Its screaming cut off instantly. All I could hear was the pounding of the rock behind me and Winchester’s pained, horrified pleas for mercy.
“Please, you’re hurting me!” he pleaded.
“Shut the fuck up, Winchester!” I whispered. “It’s here with us now.” With considerable effort, he did, only moaning and violently jerking his head now as the waves of pain ripped through him.
“I got it!” X said suddenly. A feeling of elation filled my heart.
“Let’s go then!” I yelled, turning to help the old man up. I heard something massive rise up behind us. It mixed with the sound of dripping water and babbling waves that arose from the disturbance.
Winchester was weak, stumbling up to his feet and nearly falling over immediately. Staggering, he took off down the trail with no shoes, but he immediately gave a curse of pain and tripped. X and I started running, and at that moment, I realized the flaw in our plan. We wouldn’t be able to get Winchester out of the swamp without carrying him, due to the extensive injuries to his feet. And I knew we didn’t have time.
Mowdoroth’s body stood as tall as the trees as it looked down at the three of us with its strange, infected eyes. Its tentacles undulated faster and faster, seeming to whip around its body until they flew out towards us.
“Run!” I screamed. X and I sprinted behind a cluster of dead trees hugging the path. The blade-like hand of Mowdoroth chopped them in a half, raining wood splinters down on our heads.
Winchester continued trying to crawl forward. Mowdoroth slithered behind him. Winchester looked up as a tentacle started coming down in his direction. He gave a short, panicked scream as the blade smashed through his back legs, chopping both of them off at the knees. The ground shook with the force of it. The stumps began spurting seemingly endless amounts of blood. Winchester pleaded and made incomprehensible gurgling sounds as he bled out. Mowdoroth ended Winchester’s cries when it wrapped its tentacle around Winchester’s torso. It slithered up into Winchester’s open mouth.
X and I shot as fast as we could while running forward in the dark, trying to hold a flashlight and a pistol. Most of my shots missed Mowdoroth, but with a sense of satisfaction and pride, I saw a few burst through its enormous body. Streams of radioactive green blood ran down its torso now. As its serpentine legs pumped furiously, it gained speed, coming behind us like a runaway train. I could feel the ground shaking with every thud of its tentacled feet.
A few hundred feet ahead of us, I caught a glimpse of the cultists. They were hurrying away from the area, not running but moving much faster than they had come in. Nearly out of breath already and exhausted from hiking all day, I pointed forward.
“Look!” I screamed. X saw them, his eyes widening. We sprinted in a blind panic, as fast as we could towards the stragglers in the black robes. Without warning, X raised his pistol and fired, aiming at the nearest of them.
The figure in the back of the pack fell forward without making a sound. He continued trying to crawl forward weakly for a few moments before he lost energy and lay still, no more than a bleeding black hump on the dark earth.
X gave a sudden cry of pain next to me as a tentacle came down like a guillotine blade. I heard it whip through the air with a high-pitched whine. A single breath later, I watched in horror as it sliced off his right arm. X looked down at the spurting stump for a long moment, his tanned face turning as pale as bones. He stumbled forward, then, with a hoarse cry, he fell.
Following X’s lead, I raised my gun and started shooting the cultists. They sprinted away in a random panic as bodies fell ahead of us. I jumped over the black lumps on the ground, hearing Mowdoroth shake the world as it gave chase. A long, snake-like tentacle reached down, picking up X’s spurting body and raising it towards Mowdoroth’s leech-like mouth. The massive abomination slowed, picking up the bodies of the dead cultists and crushing them. I heard the bones shatter as the wet gore exploded around Mowdoroth’s many sharp teeth.
I saw the woods again, living trees just a few hundred feet away. The trail of black earth ended abruptly, leading out of the boglands. Cultists sprinted blindly through the forest in every direction, scattering like cockroaches. I had nearly reached the border of the forest when I heard something whizzing past my head. I ducked, but the blur of a grayish tentacle coming down sent a jolt of fear like electricity sizzling through my body.
A moment later, a cold agony covered my left hand. In shock, I looked down, realizing that the blade-like appendage of Mowdoroth had neatly amputated all four of my fingers. If I hadn’t ducked, it would’ve probably gotten my head instead.
Stumbling and screaming, my mind in a blind panic, I staggered through the intersection of the boglands and the forest, falling forward. I knew I was dead. I closed my eyes, waiting. Yet nothing happened.
When I looked back, I saw something strange. Mowdoroth had stopped at the end of the boglands. It tried to push its body forward towards me, but it couldn’t enter the forest. It was as if an invisible barrier stood there.
I lay there for a long time. After a while, I heard Mowdoroth slink back into the fetid waters of the boglands. And then I was alone.
***
I wrapped my hand in bandages as much as I could, trying to stem the bleeding. I felt weak and sick from blood loss, so I lay there until the sun came up. The next day, I was able to slowly make my way out of the forest and back towards the nearest town.
Now I hear stories of people mysteriously going missing in the area. An entire family in a nearby farmhouse only a couple dozen miles away disappeared in the middle of the night without a trace, leaving only smeared trails of blood leading into the forest. No one saw anything, but these six victims were only the first in a long line of strange deaths. Oddly enough, all of the victims lived next to swamps.
And I have the feeling that I was the one responsible.

I had been hiking down the Appalachian Trail for over two weeks without issue on the day when the nightmare began. My friend, X, was by my side the entire time. It was, quite honestly, comforting to have someone who stood nearly six-and-a-half feet tall with me, especially during the long, dark nights when the howling of coyotes drew near. Black bears, too, were a constant presence in these dark mountains. As we got farther from towns and civilization, more ancient predators than human beings took over the land, stalking the night like creeping shadows.
For this trip, we both had bought as few supplies as possible. Included in our packs were MREs, two sleeping bags, some tarps and hammocks, some light clothing, and two pistols with a few boxes of ammo. We didn’t want to be too weighed down that we wouldn’t be able to move fast, after all. We would source water from the streams, waterfalls and lakes along the way and filter it using Lifestraws.
As the spring breeze blew past us, cooling the sweat on my face, I noticed the trail ahead of us weaving its way through thick swampland. The buzzing of flies and mosquitoes increased with every step. The green, fetid waters of the swamp bubbled constantly, as if it were whispering secrets to us.
“Ah, shit,” X said, glancing down the hill with his dark, serious eyes. His tanned skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Another swamp. I hate swamps. You know there’s going to be a million mosquitoes and flies down there.” I pulled out the map, squinting down at it. I ran my finger down the trail, seeing the mountains and valleys we had already passed.
“The trail shouldn’t be going through any swamps,” I said. “They’re supposed to be marked. There’s no ponds or anything around here.” And yet there very clearly was. Either we were in a different spot than I thought we were, or the map was outdated. The trail also grew thinner as we descended. The sharp branches of the bushes stuck out like greedy hands, grabbing at our backpacks and clothes as we pressed forward.
“Well, whatever,” X said gruffly, plowing ahead. Twigs cracked under his massive bulk. The thin branches hanging across the path snapped as he plowed forward. I let him go first, since he was significantly bigger than myself. It was like following in the path of a bull.
“The faster we move, the faster we’ll be through it. We don’t want to camp anywhere around here when it gets dark,” X continued, looking grim. “We’ll be eaten alive by bugs by sunrise. We need to make it to the other side of these boglands before we can stop for the night.”
“Yeah, and I could use some more water,” I said, shaking my mostly empty canteen. “I wouldn’t drink this shit no matter what we did to it. It probably has brain-eating parasites crawling in it.” I checked my watch, realizing that dusk was only a half hour away. We would have to move fast indeed, especially as we didn’t know the size of the swamp. I was not enthusiastic about hiking in the dark with the many steep trails and sharp rocks that covered the surrounding land. A single misstep could lead to a very long, bone-shattering fall.
To my increasing dismay, I realized that the trail we were on no longer had the characteristic white markings of the Appalachian Trail. I kept checking the trees for the past fifteen minutes, and I definitely hadn’t seen a single one. I couldn’t remember the last time we had passed one, but I had a creeping suspicion it had been at least a couple hours ago.
“I think we have a problem, man,” I whispered. “I don’t know how it possibly could have happened, but I think we’re on the wrong trail.”
“There’s not supposed to be any other trails around here,” X argued. “Check the map.”
“Then where’s the white blazes? There’s not supposed to be any boglands around here, either, yet we’re walking through the middle of one,” I said. He shook his head.
“Listen, Ben, there’s not going to be markers on the entire Appalachian Trail,” he said. “Just trust me. We’re on the right path. Sometimes forests change. Swamps take over spots where forests used to lay. Hell, the Sahara Desert has been expanding for thousands of years, just eating the forests and plains all around it. There used to be lions and savannah in Morocco, and now it’s all dead and dry.”
I felt doubtful, but I continued forwards, following closely behind X. Neither one of us had ever done the full Appalachian Trail, after all. I hoped he was right. I was not enthusiastic about backtracking two or three hours if he wasn’t.
I thought back closely on our travels during the last few hours, wondering where we could have gone wrong. The trail had been rather overgrown and rocky on the peak of the last mountain. There had been a beautiful view spanning hundreds of miles, looking far off into state forests and winding roads. I remembered seeing the white marker near the top, but after we had started descending, it disappeared. That must have been where we went wrong, if we did, indeed, go off-course. But I couldn’t be sure, and I didn’t tell X about my suspicions.
We finished descending a steep, rocky trail into a valley where the boglands really started. The trees ended in a massive semi-circle around the open swamp. Thick peat covered the entire surface of it like rotted, grayish-brown skin. I saw water snakes quietly disappearing into the stagnant water, leaving behind slowly expanding ripples.
“This is pretty cool,” I said, stopping for a moment at the bottom of the trail to admire the boglands. Our trail continued directly through the center of it, no more than a raised patch of black earth surrounded by green swampy water. I could hear the many insects chirping and flying before we even took a step forward. Though the spring air felt warm and I was covered in sweat, I still reached into my bag, taking out a windbreaker that would cover up my arms and neck to help with the bugs. X did the same.
“Let’s move fast,” he said, giving me a knowing look. He was a much faster hiker than myself. He seemed like a machine sometimes, tireless and single-minded. I had seen him hike over twenty miles in a single day without looking too bent out of shape. I gave him a faint half-smile, picking up my pace.
“You know what they used to say about the boglands?” I asked X. He shook his head.
“I don’t read books,” he said. “If I have time to sit down and read, then it means I have time to go out and do something actually fun. But I’m sure you know all about it.” I gave a short bark of laughter at his off-handed insult. It sounded far too loud echoing back to us through the creepy swamp. The last rays of sunlight were disappearing behind the mountains now. Soon, we would be plunged into darkness.
“Well, in ancient times, people thought the boglands a place where the walls of reality were thin, where the gods would come through. They used to bring their victims out to swamps during rituals, then they would slice their throats or strangle them and dump their bodies into the bogs as an offering to the gods. They also said that strange, shape-shifting creatures would appear, sometimes to deceive travelers, other times to help them,” I said. “But as for human sacrifices, the bogs preserve bodies like nothing else, except maybe tar pits. Archaeologists keep finding victims with slashed throats or shattered skulls buried underneath the peat.”
X was silent for a long moment as we continued walking along the raised patch of earth that formed the trail. We got farther and farther from the forests, until the swamp seemed like a fetid ocean, spanning out to the horizon in every direction.
“Do you think they used to do that kind of stuff around here?” X asked.
“Used to?” I exclaimed, laughing. “I’m sure some psychopaths still do. This is a good place to dump a body, after all. Who the hell wants to trek through the muck and the snakes and mosquitoes out here looking for corpses?”
“The FBI and the cops will do it,” he said, “if they think there’s something to find.” I was about to respond when an ear-splitting shriek echoed out all around us. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from at first. X’s tan skin seemed to go pale as he spun, glancing in every direction.
“What the fuck is that?!” he screamed over the deafening wailing. I didn’t believe in cryptids, but my anxious mind immediately offered up an image of a banshee, a woman with chalk-white skin and black eyes whose shrieking jaw unhinged like a snake’s.
“I’m turning around!” I yelled, pointing back for emphasis. “Dude, fuck this! We need to get out of this swamp!” But X was no longer listening. He was looking past me, his mouth open and his eyes wild. He started backpedaling and nearly fell into the swamp. Windmilling his arms crazily, he turned and sprinted away without a word.
I was afraid to look back. The screaming was getting louder by the second, shaking the air all around me in deafening, crashing waves of sound. I felt like my head would explode if it got any worse. Instinctively, I took off after X, but I glanced back for a single moment before I did. Something loomed there from a nightmare, standing as tall as the trees. It moved through the swamp like a snake, its body slithering through the stagnant green waters towards us. When it met my eyes, the screaming stopped. The abrupt silence seemed deafening. I could hear the fervent pounding of my heart in my ears.
The creature’s skin looked honeycombed and rough, almost like a wasp’s nest. The thousands of tiny holes covering its body constantly opened and closed like hungry mouths. Its arms were long tentacles ending in sharp points of bone in the shape of scythes. The tentacles undulated like serpents. Its legs, too, were no more than four tentacles that alternatively slithered and stepped forward.
Its flesh was the color of peat, a sickly grayish-brown, and the smell that emanated from it was rancid and stagnant, the essence of all boglands and swamps. I nearly gagged as I ran. The putrefying stench seemed to follow me like a shadow.
Ahead of me, X was fumbling in his backpack as he ran, trying to grab his pistol. I knew he had a Glock 21 in that bag, and I had my Sig Sauer in mine. I cursed myself for not keeping it holstered on my body, but I had never had to use it before and hadn’t seriously thought I would need it for this trip. He glanced back at me, his eyes widening in horror.
“It’s right behind you!” he yelled. “Get down!” He dropped his backpack, revealing the sleek, black pistol clenched tightly in his hand. I barely had time to comprehend his words when an immense pressure and numbness radiated through my back. My head snapped backwards as a meaty thud resonated all around me. I went flying forward, feeling as if I had been struck by a car. As I flew through the air, the pain in my back exploded in burning pulses. I felt the deep slice open up from the sharp blade of bone that had slashed me like a knife. I felt trickles of blood pour from the open wound, making my stained shirt cling to my body.
I landed hard on the raised black earth of the trail, a bone-jarring impact that knocked the air out of me. At that same moment, X opened fire, pressing the trigger over and over, emptying the magazine as fast as he could. Something splashed over me, going in my eyes and mouth and nose. I crawled forward, moaning, my head spinning. I wiped my forehead, seeing spatters of green blood squirming with dark, maggot-like creatures covering my arms and face. It clung to my fingers, thick and rancid. I felt stinging sensations as the tiny worms bit me over and over. My ears rang with a high-pitched whine from the gunshots.
X was running towards me now. I continued to crawl towards him, shell-shocked and whimpering, trying to wipe the eldritch blood off my skin. With a muscular arm, he reached down and pulled me up.
“Where’d it go?” I mumbled, stumbling forward on unsteady feet. X put an arm around my shoulders and helped support me.
“It slunk back into the swamp,” he said. “Jesus, you’re bleeding really bad, buddy. We’re going to need to take care of that as soon as we get away from this hellhole.” I felt the deep slices from the creature’s blade-like hands across my back. The fabric of my shirt clung tightly to the skin as fresh blood soaked it.
“This isn’t the trail, X,” I gasped. “We went the wrong way. We need to go back.” He nodded grimly.
“We’re heading back right now. I know it’s the wrong trail now, it definitely is, but it’s dark. The trails back up the mountains are steep and dangerous, and we’ve already been hiking all day. How much longer can we really go?” he asked. In reality, I had a feeling X could go for quite a bit longer. I was the weak link in the chain, and we both knew it.
X took out a small, LED flashlight from his backpack, shining it ahead of us on the dark path. Across the center of the black earth, there was an obstruction, something that hadn’t been there when we passed this way originally.
“Shit! Is that a person?” X said, slowing down. He focused the light on it. As my eyes adjusted, I gave a gasp of horror as I saw a rough sacrificial table looming there, waiting with a ready victim.
Laying on the bare wooden planks in the center of the trail was an elderly man wearing the garb of a hunter. He was gagged, a bloody rag shoved deep into his mouth. I felt a sense of revulsion and terror as I realized his hands and feet were nailed to the planks, as if he were being crucified laying down. His eyes rolled wildly, white and insane, like a horse with a broken leg. When he saw us approaching, he tried to say something through the gag, pulling hard against the nails that bit so viciously into his flesh. Fresh rivers of blood spurted from his wounds.
I had my pistol in my hands. X had taken a fresh magazine out by now, throwing the empty one back in his backpack. Trembling, he went first, his shaking hand moving the flashlight around wildly. Its bright rays bounced off the dead, half-rotted trees that grew out of the boglands, the clouds of mosquitoes and moths that circled us constantly.
“Oh my God... he's like the victim of a serial killer or something,” he whispered, running a trembling hand over his face. “It looks like someone has set that poor guy up to have his heart cut out, like some sort of Aztec ritual.” He glanced worriedly over at me. We had both stopped cold in our tracks, looking around for any sign of danger, but we only saw the old man writhing on his rough table of torture.
“We have to keep going forward,” I whispered. “That thing is behind us. I don’t think it’s dead. I’m not sure it can even die.”
“But what’s ahead of us?” he asked grimly. “That’s the real question, isn’t it?” Far off down the trail, I saw small pinpoints of flickering light. They drew closer. We raised our pistols, waiting for the new arrivals to show themselves.
Dozens of people dressed in black, silky robes holding lamps slowly ambled their way towards us. They had their heads bowed, like monks on a holy pilgrimage. They drew close to the sacrifice. The one in the lead held a long, curving dagger whose blade looked like it was made of some kind of red volcanic rock. Its strange silver handle glittered in his pale, thin hand. At the end, I saw it was sculpted into the shape of a human heart.
“Stop right there!” X screamed, stepping forward. “Don’t come any closer! We are armed, I’m warning you.” The people in the black robes didn’t appear to hear or care in the slightest. They continued slowly following their leader with the strange dagger, almost floating forward in a nonchalant manner. Their leader began chanting in some strange, ancient language. It reminded me of Tibetan or Sanskrit in a way, like the chanting of some Vajrayana monk high up in the Himalayas. But it had a sinister, hissing quality to the words. Something ancient and powerful resonated in every syllable.
I raised the pistol, firing blankly into the dark, cloudless sky above. The smell of gunsmoke and fetid rot hung thick in the air. The leader of the group looked at me with his large, glassy eyes. His face looked sunken and pale, almost like a starving child. He had shaved all of the hair on his head, even his eyebrows. His lips were extremely thin and bloodless in his chalk-white face.
For a long moment, we stood staring at each other, my pistol aimed at his chest. X also had his pistol raised, aimed at one of those standing behind him. But the robed man didn’t speak. He gave me a faint grin.
“Let the old man go,” I commanded, my voice sounding hoarse and weak. The swamp quickly swallowed up my words, until only the buzzing of mosquitoes remained.
“I am sorry, my son, but I cannot do that,” the leader said in a voice as cold as endless space. “If we do not feed Mowdoroth, it will never sleep. The swamps will continue to expand, eating more and more of the surrounding forests and towns, and Mowdoroth, driven insane by hunger, will take far more victims in the process.
“This job has been passed down to us from generation to generation, from big hand to small, for over four centuries. Only twice has Mowdoroth not been fed on the New Moon, and each time, entire settlements full of people were wiped off the face of the Earth as if they had never existed. On one, they just had time to carve the word ‘CROATAN’ before they were taken.
“Mowdoroth looks for the place where the nightmares grow. It breaks open the chest and finds the place where the silent screams start, deep down at the base of the heart. All of the nightmares are planted there, like tiny seeds scattered during childhood. Those that fell on good soil in that abyss produced a great crop, yielding a hundredfold, sixtyfold, or thirtyfold. If you do not allow us to complete our holy mission, then you do it: cut open the man's chest and remove his beating heart. As it beats, squeeze it as hard as you can, and let all the blood drain onto the top of your head. Hold the heart above your head and close your eyes until the god appears and takes it.” The cult leader finished, looking at us with sparkling eyes, as if he had said something profound.
“This shit is just insane drivel,” X whispered in a voice as low as possible. “I say we open fire and save the old man now. Fuck these cultists.” I nodded grimly in agreement.
“You need to all turn around and leave immediately,” X yelled, stepping forward. “I will give you three seconds to turn around and get the hell out of my sight. Three…” At first, the cultists stood as still as statues, simply staring. Finally, the leader sighed and turned away. He shook his head, reminding me of a disappointed parent.
“I tried to warn you,” he said in his thin, quavering voice. “The time has come to give the offering. You must cut out this man’s heart and raise it to Mowdoroth, so he can get the seeds of nightmares freshly sown. The choice is yours now, as you have demanded this power with violence. You can leave this man here to be eaten by Mowdoroth, or free him and, in exchange, guarantee the deaths of hundreds of other people.”
With those last words, the black-robed figures continued down the curve of the trail. Within seconds, they had disappeared behind dead, half-rotted trees that still dotted the edges of the boglands. X and I ran forward toward the struggling old man. X reached into his pocket and pulled out a folding knife. He cut off the old man’s gag, pulling the spit-soaked chunk of filthy cloth out of his mouth. The old man spat and licked his dry lips.
“Get me out of here, please,” he whispered, his eyes rolling wildly. “Those cult members are all batshit insane. And there’s something not right in these swamps. I caught glimpses of something while I was waiting. There’s something in the water…”
“What’s your name, bud?” X said calmingly, looking at the old man’s hands and feet to try to decide how to best get the nails out without causing more damage.
“Winchester,” he said in a coarse voice. It sounded like he hadn’t had a drink of water in days. While X looked at his hands with the LED flashlight, I reached into my pack for the small canteen of filtered water I still had. I started pouring it into Winchester’s mouth. He gulped greedily, his throat working hard to drink down the rest of it.
“I got it!” X said, taking a flat stone he had found on the ground. “I’m going to try to pound these nails out from the bottom.”
“Oh, please, no,” Winchester said, his wrinkled face turning pale. X shook his head.
“We need to get you out of here,” he said. “It’s going to hurt, bud. But we don’t have any tools here. The nails are large, almost like railroad spikes, and once we get the top part, the bottom should slide out easily since it’s a lot narrower.” As he grabbed the rock to begin his work, a bone-chilling wailing started up again from the swamps. It was the scream of Mowdoroth, that abomination with the skin of a wasp’s nest.
“Cover us!” X yelled panickedly as he continued his grisly work. Winchester screamed in pain when X first struck the nail on his right hand. It shot up a fraction of an inch, fresh blood pooling all around it and dripping through the bare planks.
I turned, but the banshee wail seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. The swamp bubbled faster and faster all around us, as if thousands of corpses were coming back to life. I heard Winchester scream again, then the dull thud of another nail hitting the earth.
A face peeked out of the swamp, only twenty feet away. Its eyes were green, the color of a putrefying wound. Its lipless mouth opened wide, showing a spongy black mass of skin with concentric circles of tiny, razor-sharp teeth. It reminded me of the mouth of a lamprey.
I opened fire, shooting wildly at the face, aiming at the body hidden under the dark surface of the swamp. Luminescent drops of green blood exploded from a bullet hole in its upper right shoulder, floating across the surface of the water like radioactive waste.
Its screaming cut off instantly. All I could hear was the pounding of the rock behind me and Winchester’s pained, horrified pleas for mercy.
“Please, you’re hurting me!” he pleaded.
“Shut the fuck up, Winchester!” I whispered. “It’s here with us now.” With considerable effort, he did, only moaning and violently jerking his head now as the waves of pain ripped through him.
“I got it!” X said suddenly. A feeling of elation filled my heart.
“Let’s go then!” I yelled, turning to help the old man up. I heard something massive rise up behind us. It mixed with the sound of dripping water and babbling waves that arose from the disturbance.
Winchester was weak, stumbling up to his feet and nearly falling over immediately. Staggering, he took off down the trail with no shoes, but he immediately gave a curse of pain and tripped. X and I started running, and at that moment, I realized the flaw in our plan. We wouldn’t be able to get Winchester out of the swamp without carrying him, due to the extensive injuries to his feet. And I knew we didn’t have time.
Mowdoroth’s body stood as tall as the trees as it looked down at the three of us with its strange, infected eyes. Its tentacles undulated faster and faster, seeming to whip around its body until they flew out towards us.
“Run!” I screamed. X and I sprinted behind a cluster of dead trees hugging the path. The blade-like hand of Mowdoroth chopped them in a half, raining wood splinters down on our heads.
Winchester continued trying to crawl forward. Mowdoroth slithered behind him. Winchester looked up as a tentacle started coming down in his direction. He gave a short, panicked scream as the blade smashed through his back legs, chopping both of them off at the knees. The ground shook with the force of it. The stumps began spurting seemingly endless amounts of blood. Winchester pleaded and made incomprehensible gurgling sounds as he bled out. Mowdoroth ended Winchester’s cries when it wrapped its tentacle around Winchester’s torso. It slithered up into Winchester’s open mouth.
X and I shot as fast as we could while running forward in the dark, trying to hold a flashlight and a pistol. Most of my shots missed Mowdoroth, but with a sense of satisfaction and pride, I saw a few burst through its enormous body. Streams of radioactive green blood ran down its torso now. As its serpentine legs pumped furiously, it gained speed, coming behind us like a runaway train. I could feel the ground shaking with every thud of its tentacled feet.
A few hundred feet ahead of us, I caught a glimpse of the cultists. They were hurrying away from the area, not running but moving much faster than they had come in. Nearly out of breath already and exhausted from hiking all day, I pointed forward.
“Look!” I screamed. X saw them, his eyes widening. We sprinted in a blind panic, as fast as we could towards the stragglers in the black robes. Without warning, X raised his pistol and fired, aiming at the nearest of them.
The figure in the back of the pack fell forward without making a sound. He continued trying to crawl forward weakly for a few moments before he lost energy and lay still, no more than a bleeding black hump on the dark earth.
X gave a sudden cry of pain next to me as a tentacle came down like a guillotine blade. I heard it whip through the air with a high-pitched whine. A single breath later, I watched in horror as it sliced off his right arm. X looked down at the spurting stump for a long moment, his tanned face turning as pale as bones. He stumbled forward, then, with a hoarse cry, he fell.
Following X’s lead, I raised my gun and started shooting the cultists. They sprinted away in a random panic as bodies fell ahead of us. I jumped over the black lumps on the ground, hearing Mowdoroth shake the world as it gave chase. A long, snake-like tentacle reached down, picking up X’s spurting body and raising it towards Mowdoroth’s leech-like mouth. The massive abomination slowed, picking up the bodies of the dead cultists and crushing them. I heard the bones shatter as the wet gore exploded around Mowdoroth’s many sharp teeth.
I saw the woods again, living trees just a few hundred feet away. The trail of black earth ended abruptly, leading out of the boglands. Cultists sprinted blindly through the forest in every direction, scattering like cockroaches. I had nearly reached the border of the forest when I heard something whizzing past my head. I ducked, but the blur of a grayish tentacle coming down sent a jolt of fear like electricity sizzling through my body.
A moment later, a cold agony covered my left hand. In shock, I looked down, realizing that the blade-like appendage of Mowdoroth had neatly amputated all four of my fingers. If I hadn’t ducked, it would’ve probably gotten my head instead.
Stumbling and screaming, my mind in a blind panic, I staggered through the intersection of the boglands and the forest, falling forward. I knew I was dead. I closed my eyes, waiting. Yet nothing happened.
When I looked back, I saw something strange. Mowdoroth had stopped at the end of the boglands. It tried to push its body forward towards me, but it couldn’t enter the forest. It was as if an invisible barrier stood there.
I lay there for a long time. After a while, I heard Mowdoroth slink back into the fetid waters of the boglands. And then I was alone.
***
I wrapped my hand in bandages as much as I could, trying to stem the bleeding. I felt weak and sick from blood loss, so I lay there until the sun came up. The next day, I was able to slowly make my way out of the forest and back towards the nearest town.
Now I hear stories of people mysteriously going missing in the area. An entire family in a nearby farmhouse only a couple dozen miles away disappeared in the middle of the night without a trace, leaving only smeared trails of blood leading into the forest. No one saw anything, but these six victims were only the first in a long line of strange deaths. Oddly enough, all of the victims lived next to swamps.
And I have the feeling that I was the one responsible.

I had been hiking down the Appalachian Trail for over two weeks without issue on the day when the nightmare began. My friend, X, was by my side the entire time. It was, quite honestly, comforting to have someone who stood nearly six-and-a-half feet tall with me, especially during the long, dark nights when the howling of coyotes drew near. Black bears, too, were a constant presence in these dark mountains. As we got farther from towns and civilization, more ancient predators than human beings took over the land, stalking the night like creeping shadows.
For this trip, we both had bought as few supplies as possible. Included in our packs were MREs, two sleeping bags, some tarps and hammocks, some light clothing, and two pistols with a few boxes of ammo. We didn’t want to be too weighed down that we wouldn’t be able to move fast, after all. We would source water from the streams, waterfalls and lakes along the way and filter it using Lifestraws.
As the spring breeze blew past us, cooling the sweat on my face, I noticed the trail ahead of us weaving its way through thick swampland. The buzzing of flies and mosquitoes increased with every step. The green, fetid waters of the swamp bubbled constantly, as if it were whispering secrets to us.
“Ah, shit,” X said, glancing down the hill with his dark, serious eyes. His tanned skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Another swamp. I hate swamps. You know there’s going to be a million mosquitoes and flies down there.” I pulled out the map, squinting down at it. I ran my finger down the trail, seeing the mountains and valleys we had already passed.
“The trail shouldn’t be going through any swamps,” I said. “They’re supposed to be marked. There’s no ponds or anything around here.” And yet there very clearly was. Either we were in a different spot than I thought we were, or the map was outdated. The trail also grew thinner as we descended. The sharp branches of the bushes stuck out like greedy hands, grabbing at our backpacks and clothes as we pressed forward.
“Well, whatever,” X said gruffly, plowing ahead. Twigs cracked under his massive bulk. The thin branches hanging across the path snapped as he plowed forward. I let him go first, since he was significantly bigger than myself. It was like following in the path of a bull.
“The faster we move, the faster we’ll be through it. We don’t want to camp anywhere around here when it gets dark,” X continued, looking grim. “We’ll be eaten alive by bugs by sunrise. We need to make it to the other side of these boglands before we can stop for the night.”
“Yeah, and I could use some more water,” I said, shaking my mostly empty canteen. “I wouldn’t drink this shit no matter what we did to it. It probably has brain-eating parasites crawling in it.” I checked my watch, realizing that dusk was only a half hour away. We would have to move fast indeed, especially as we didn’t know the size of the swamp. I was not enthusiastic about hiking in the dark with the many steep trails and sharp rocks that covered the surrounding land. A single misstep could lead to a very long, bone-shattering fall.
To my increasing dismay, I realized that the trail we were on no longer had the characteristic white markings of the Appalachian Trail. I kept checking the trees for the past fifteen minutes, and I definitely hadn’t seen a single one. I couldn’t remember the last time we had passed one, but I had a creeping suspicion it had been at least a couple hours ago.
“I think we have a problem, man,” I whispered. “I don’t know how it possibly could have happened, but I think we’re on the wrong trail.”
“There’s not supposed to be any other trails around here,” X argued. “Check the map.”
“Then where’s the white blazes? There’s not supposed to be any boglands around here, either, yet we’re walking through the middle of one,” I said. He shook his head.
“Listen, Ben, there’s not going to be markers on the entire Appalachian Trail,” he said. “Just trust me. We’re on the right path. Sometimes forests change. Swamps take over spots where forests used to lay. Hell, the Sahara Desert has been expanding for thousands of years, just eating the forests and plains all around it. There used to be lions and savannah in Morocco, and now it’s all dead and dry.”
I felt doubtful, but I continued forwards, following closely behind X. Neither one of us had ever done the full Appalachian Trail, after all. I hoped he was right. I was not enthusiastic about backtracking two or three hours if he wasn’t.
I thought back closely on our travels during the last few hours, wondering where we could have gone wrong. The trail had been rather overgrown and rocky on the peak of the last mountain. There had been a beautiful view spanning hundreds of miles, looking far off into state forests and winding roads. I remembered seeing the white marker near the top, but after we had started descending, it disappeared. That must have been where we went wrong, if we did, indeed, go off-course. But I couldn’t be sure, and I didn’t tell X about my suspicions.
We finished descending a steep, rocky trail into a valley where the boglands really started. The trees ended in a massive semi-circle around the open swamp. Thick peat covered the entire surface of it like rotted, grayish-brown skin. I saw water snakes quietly disappearing into the stagnant water, leaving behind slowly expanding ripples.
“This is pretty cool,” I said, stopping for a moment at the bottom of the trail to admire the boglands. Our trail continued directly through the center of it, no more than a raised patch of black earth surrounded by green swampy water. I could hear the many insects chirping and flying before we even took a step forward. Though the spring air felt warm and I was covered in sweat, I still reached into my bag, taking out a windbreaker that would cover up my arms and neck to help with the bugs. X did the same.
“Let’s move fast,” he said, giving me a knowing look. He was a much faster hiker than myself. He seemed like a machine sometimes, tireless and single-minded. I had seen him hike over twenty miles in a single day without looking too bent out of shape. I gave him a faint half-smile, picking up my pace.
“You know what they used to say about the boglands?” I asked X. He shook his head.
“I don’t read books,” he said. “If I have time to sit down and read, then it means I have time to go out and do something actually fun. But I’m sure you know all about it.” I gave a short bark of laughter at his off-handed insult. It sounded far too loud echoing back to us through the creepy swamp. The last rays of sunlight were disappearing behind the mountains now. Soon, we would be plunged into darkness.
“Well, in ancient times, people thought the boglands a place where the walls of reality were thin, where the gods would come through. They used to bring their victims out to swamps during rituals, then they would slice their throats or strangle them and dump their bodies into the bogs as an offering to the gods. They also said that strange, shape-shifting creatures would appear, sometimes to deceive travelers, other times to help them,” I said. “But as for human sacrifices, the bogs preserve bodies like nothing else, except maybe tar pits. Archaeologists keep finding victims with slashed throats or shattered skulls buried underneath the peat.”
X was silent for a long moment as we continued walking along the raised patch of earth that formed the trail. We got farther and farther from the forests, until the swamp seemed like a fetid ocean, spanning out to the horizon in every direction.
“Do you think they used to do that kind of stuff around here?” X asked.
“Used to?” I exclaimed, laughing. “I’m sure some psychopaths still do. This is a good place to dump a body, after all. Who the hell wants to trek through the muck and the snakes and mosquitoes out here looking for corpses?”
“The FBI and the cops will do it,” he said, “if they think there’s something to find.” I was about to respond when an ear-splitting shriek echoed out all around us. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from at first. X’s tan skin seemed to go pale as he spun, glancing in every direction.
“What the fuck is that?!” he screamed over the deafening wailing. I didn’t believe in cryptids, but my anxious mind immediately offered up an image of a banshee, a woman with chalk-white skin and black eyes whose shrieking jaw unhinged like a snake’s.
“I’m turning around!” I yelled, pointing back for emphasis. “Dude, fuck this! We need to get out of this swamp!” But X was no longer listening. He was looking past me, his mouth open and his eyes wild. He started backpedaling and nearly fell into the swamp. Windmilling his arms crazily, he turned and sprinted away without a word.
I was afraid to look back. The screaming was getting louder by the second, shaking the air all around me in deafening, crashing waves of sound. I felt like my head would explode if it got any worse. Instinctively, I took off after X, but I glanced back for a single moment before I did. Something loomed there from a nightmare, standing as tall as the trees. It moved through the swamp like a snake, its body slithering through the stagnant green waters towards us. When it met my eyes, the screaming stopped. The abrupt silence seemed deafening. I could hear the fervent pounding of my heart in my ears.
The creature’s skin looked honeycombed and rough, almost like a wasp’s nest. The thousands of tiny holes covering its body constantly opened and closed like hungry mouths. Its arms were long tentacles ending in sharp points of bone in the shape of scythes. The tentacles undulated like serpents. Its legs, too, were no more than four tentacles that alternatively slithered and stepped forward.
Its flesh was the color of peat, a sickly grayish-brown, and the smell that emanated from it was rancid and stagnant, the essence of all boglands and swamps. I nearly gagged as I ran. The putrefying stench seemed to follow me like a shadow.
Ahead of me, X was fumbling in his backpack as he ran, trying to grab his pistol. I knew he had a Glock 21 in that bag, and I had my Sig Sauer in mine. I cursed myself for not keeping it holstered on my body, but I had never had to use it before and hadn’t seriously thought I would need it for this trip. He glanced back at me, his eyes widening in horror.
“It’s right behind you!” he yelled. “Get down!” He dropped his backpack, revealing the sleek, black pistol clenched tightly in his hand. I barely had time to comprehend his words when an immense pressure and numbness radiated through my back. My head snapped backwards as a meaty thud resonated all around me. I went flying forward, feeling as if I had been struck by a car. As I flew through the air, the pain in my back exploded in burning pulses. I felt the deep slice open up from the sharp blade of bone that had slashed me like a knife. I felt trickles of blood pour from the open wound, making my stained shirt cling to my body.
I landed hard on the raised black earth of the trail, a bone-jarring impact that knocked the air out of me. At that same moment, X opened fire, pressing the trigger over and over, emptying the magazine as fast as he could. Something splashed over me, going in my eyes and mouth and nose. I crawled forward, moaning, my head spinning. I wiped my forehead, seeing spatters of green blood squirming with dark, maggot-like creatures covering my arms and face. It clung to my fingers, thick and rancid. I felt stinging sensations as the tiny worms bit me over and over. My ears rang with a high-pitched whine from the gunshots.
X was running towards me now. I continued to crawl towards him, shell-shocked and whimpering, trying to wipe the eldritch blood off my skin. With a muscular arm, he reached down and pulled me up.
“Where’d it go?” I mumbled, stumbling forward on unsteady feet. X put an arm around my shoulders and helped support me.
“It slunk back into the swamp,” he said. “Jesus, you’re bleeding really bad, buddy. We’re going to need to take care of that as soon as we get away from this hellhole.” I felt the deep slices from the creature’s blade-like hands across my back. The fabric of my shirt clung tightly to the skin as fresh blood soaked it.
“This isn’t the trail, X,” I gasped. “We went the wrong way. We need to go back.” He nodded grimly.
“We’re heading back right now. I know it’s the wrong trail now, it definitely is, but it’s dark. The trails back up the mountains are steep and dangerous, and we’ve already been hiking all day. How much longer can we really go?” he asked. In reality, I had a feeling X could go for quite a bit longer. I was the weak link in the chain, and we both knew it.
X took out a small, LED flashlight from his backpack, shining it ahead of us on the dark path. Across the center of the black earth, there was an obstruction, something that hadn’t been there when we passed this way originally.
“Shit! Is that a person?” X said, slowing down. He focused the light on it. As my eyes adjusted, I gave a gasp of horror as I saw a rough sacrificial table looming there, waiting with a ready victim.
Laying on the bare wooden planks in the center of the trail was an elderly man wearing the garb of a hunter. He was gagged, a bloody rag shoved deep into his mouth. I felt a sense of revulsion and terror as I realized his hands and feet were nailed to the planks, as if he were being crucified laying down. His eyes rolled wildly, white and insane, like a horse with a broken leg. When he saw us approaching, he tried to say something through the gag, pulling hard against the nails that bit so viciously into his flesh. Fresh rivers of blood spurted from his wounds.
I had my pistol in my hands. X had taken a fresh magazine out by now, throwing the empty one back in his backpack. Trembling, he went first, his shaking hand moving the flashlight around wildly. Its bright rays bounced off the dead, half-rotted trees that grew out of the boglands, the clouds of mosquitoes and moths that circled us constantly.
“Oh my God... he's like the victim of a serial killer or something,” he whispered, running a trembling hand over his face. “It looks like someone has set that poor guy up to have his heart cut out, like some sort of Aztec ritual.” He glanced worriedly over at me. We had both stopped cold in our tracks, looking around for any sign of danger, but we only saw the old man writhing on his rough table of torture.
“We have to keep going forward,” I whispered. “That thing is behind us. I don’t think it’s dead. I’m not sure it can even die.”
“But what’s ahead of us?” he asked grimly. “That’s the real question, isn’t it?” Far off down the trail, I saw small pinpoints of flickering light. They drew closer. We raised our pistols, waiting for the new arrivals to show themselves.
Dozens of people dressed in black, silky robes holding lamps slowly ambled their way towards us. They had their heads bowed, like monks on a holy pilgrimage. They drew close to the sacrifice. The one in the lead held a long, curving dagger whose blade looked like it was made of some kind of red volcanic rock. Its strange silver handle glittered in his pale, thin hand. At the end, I saw it was sculpted into the shape of a human heart.
“Stop right there!” X screamed, stepping forward. “Don’t come any closer! We are armed, I’m warning you.” The people in the black robes didn’t appear to hear or care in the slightest. They continued slowly following their leader with the strange dagger, almost floating forward in a nonchalant manner. Their leader began chanting in some strange, ancient language. It reminded me of Tibetan or Sanskrit in a way, like the chanting of some Vajrayana monk high up in the Himalayas. But it had a sinister, hissing quality to the words. Something ancient and powerful resonated in every syllable.
I raised the pistol, firing blankly into the dark, cloudless sky above. The smell of gunsmoke and fetid rot hung thick in the air. The leader of the group looked at me with his large, glassy eyes. His face looked sunken and pale, almost like a starving child. He had shaved all of the hair on his head, even his eyebrows. His lips were extremely thin and bloodless in his chalk-white face.
For a long moment, we stood staring at each other, my pistol aimed at his chest. X also had his pistol raised, aimed at one of those standing behind him. But the robed man didn’t speak. He gave me a faint grin.
“Let the old man go,” I commanded, my voice sounding hoarse and weak. The swamp quickly swallowed up my words, until only the buzzing of mosquitoes remained.
“I am sorry, my son, but I cannot do that,” the leader said in a voice as cold as endless space. “If we do not feed Mowdoroth, it will never sleep. The swamps will continue to expand, eating more and more of the surrounding forests and towns, and Mowdoroth, driven insane by hunger, will take far more victims in the process.
“This job has been passed down to us from generation to generation, from big hand to small, for over four centuries. Only twice has Mowdoroth not been fed on the New Moon, and each time, entire settlements full of people were wiped off the face of the Earth as if they had never existed. On one, they just had time to carve the word ‘CROATAN’ before they were taken.
“Mowdoroth looks for the place where the nightmares grow. It breaks open the chest and finds the place where the silent screams start, deep down at the base of the heart. All of the nightmares are planted there, like tiny seeds scattered during childhood. Those that fell on good soil in that abyss produced a great crop, yielding a hundredfold, sixtyfold, or thirtyfold. If you do not allow us to complete our holy mission, then you do it: cut open the man's chest and remove his beating heart. As it beats, squeeze it as hard as you can, and let all the blood drain onto the top of your head. Hold the heart above your head and close your eyes until the god appears and takes it.” The cult leader finished, looking at us with sparkling eyes, as if he had said something profound.
“This shit is just insane drivel,” X whispered in a voice as low as possible. “I say we open fire and save the old man now. Fuck these cultists.” I nodded grimly in agreement.
“You need to all turn around and leave immediately,” X yelled, stepping forward. “I will give you three seconds to turn around and get the hell out of my sight. Three…” At first, the cultists stood as still as statues, simply staring. Finally, the leader sighed and turned away. He shook his head, reminding me of a disappointed parent.
“I tried to warn you,” he said in his thin, quavering voice. “The time has come to give the offering. You must cut out this man’s heart and raise it to Mowdoroth, so he can get the seeds of nightmares freshly sown. The choice is yours now, as you have demanded this power with violence. You can leave this man here to be eaten by Mowdoroth, or free him and, in exchange, guarantee the deaths of hundreds of other people.”
With those last words, the black-robed figures continued down the curve of the trail. Within seconds, they had disappeared behind dead, half-rotted trees that still dotted the edges of the boglands. X and I ran forward toward the struggling old man. X reached into his pocket and pulled out a folding knife. He cut off the old man’s gag, pulling the spit-soaked chunk of filthy cloth out of his mouth. The old man spat and licked his dry lips.
“Get me out of here, please,” he whispered, his eyes rolling wildly. “Those cult members are all batshit insane. And there’s something not right in these swamps. I caught glimpses of something while I was waiting. There’s something in the water…”
“What’s your name, bud?” X said calmingly, looking at the old man’s hands and feet to try to decide how to best get the nails out without causing more damage.
“Winchester,” he said in a coarse voice. It sounded like he hadn’t had a drink of water in days. While X looked at his hands with the LED flashlight, I reached into my pack for the small canteen of filtered water I still had. I started pouring it into Winchester’s mouth. He gulped greedily, his throat working hard to drink down the rest of it.
“I got it!” X said, taking a flat stone he had found on the ground. “I’m going to try to pound these nails out from the bottom.”
“Oh, please, no,” Winchester said, his wrinkled face turning pale. X shook his head.
“We need to get you out of here,” he said. “It’s going to hurt, bud. But we don’t have any tools here. The nails are large, almost like railroad spikes, and once we get the top part, the bottom should slide out easily since it’s a lot narrower.” As he grabbed the rock to begin his work, a bone-chilling wailing started up again from the swamps. It was the scream of Mowdoroth, that abomination with the skin of a wasp’s nest.
“Cover us!” X yelled panickedly as he continued his grisly work. Winchester screamed in pain when X first struck the nail on his right hand. It shot up a fraction of an inch, fresh blood pooling all around it and dripping through the bare planks.
I turned, but the banshee wail seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. The swamp bubbled faster and faster all around us, as if thousands of corpses were coming back to life. I heard Winchester scream again, then the dull thud of another nail hitting the earth.
A face peeked out of the swamp, only twenty feet away. Its eyes were green, the color of a putrefying wound. Its lipless mouth opened wide, showing a spongy black mass of skin with concentric circles of tiny, razor-sharp teeth. It reminded me of the mouth of a lamprey.
I opened fire, shooting wildly at the face, aiming at the body hidden under the dark surface of the swamp. Luminescent drops of green blood exploded from a bullet hole in its upper right shoulder, floating across the surface of the water like radioactive waste.
Its screaming cut off instantly. All I could hear was the pounding of the rock behind me and Winchester’s pained, horrified pleas for mercy.
“Please, you’re hurting me!” he pleaded.
“Shut the fuck up, Winchester!” I whispered. “It’s here with us now.” With considerable effort, he did, only moaning and violently jerking his head now as the waves of pain ripped through him.
“I got it!” X said suddenly. A feeling of elation filled my heart.
“Let’s go then!” I yelled, turning to help the old man up. I heard something massive rise up behind us. It mixed with the sound of dripping water and babbling waves that arose from the disturbance.
Winchester was weak, stumbling up to his feet and nearly falling over immediately. Staggering, he took off down the trail with no shoes, but he immediately gave a curse of pain and tripped. X and I started running, and at that moment, I realized the flaw in our plan. We wouldn’t be able to get Winchester out of the swamp without carrying him, due to the extensive injuries to his feet. And I knew we didn’t have time.
Mowdoroth’s body stood as tall as the trees as it looked down at the three of us with its strange, infected eyes. Its tentacles undulated faster and faster, seeming to whip around its body until they flew out towards us.
“Run!” I screamed. X and I sprinted behind a cluster of dead trees hugging the path. The blade-like hand of Mowdoroth chopped them in a half, raining wood splinters down on our heads.
Winchester continued trying to crawl forward. Mowdoroth slithered behind him. Winchester looked up as a tentacle started coming down in his direction. He gave a short, panicked scream as the blade smashed through his back legs, chopping both of them off at the knees. The ground shook with the force of it. The stumps began spurting seemingly endless amounts of blood. Winchester pleaded and made incomprehensible gurgling sounds as he bled out. Mowdoroth ended Winchester’s cries when it wrapped its tentacle around Winchester’s torso. It slithered up into Winchester’s open mouth.
X and I shot as fast as we could while running forward in the dark, trying to hold a flashlight and a pistol. Most of my shots missed Mowdoroth, but with a sense of satisfaction and pride, I saw a few burst through its enormous body. Streams of radioactive green blood ran down its torso now. As its serpentine legs pumped furiously, it gained speed, coming behind us like a runaway train. I could feel the ground shaking with every thud of its tentacled feet.
A few hundred feet ahead of us, I caught a glimpse of the cultists. They were hurrying away from the area, not running but moving much faster than they had come in. Nearly out of breath already and exhausted from hiking all day, I pointed forward.
“Look!” I screamed. X saw them, his eyes widening. We sprinted in a blind panic, as fast as we could towards the stragglers in the black robes. Without warning, X raised his pistol and fired, aiming at the nearest of them.
The figure in the back of the pack fell forward without making a sound. He continued trying to crawl forward weakly for a few moments before he lost energy and lay still, no more than a bleeding black hump on the dark earth.
X gave a sudden cry of pain next to me as a tentacle came down like a guillotine blade. I heard it whip through the air with a high-pitched whine. A single breath later, I watched in horror as it sliced off his right arm. X looked down at the spurting stump for a long moment, his tanned face turning as pale as bones. He stumbled forward, then, with a hoarse cry, he fell.
Following X’s lead, I raised my gun and started shooting the cultists. They sprinted away in a random panic as bodies fell ahead of us. I jumped over the black lumps on the ground, hearing Mowdoroth shake the world as it gave chase. A long, snake-like tentacle reached down, picking up X’s spurting body and raising it towards Mowdoroth’s leech-like mouth. The massive abomination slowed, picking up the bodies of the dead cultists and crushing them. I heard the bones shatter as the wet gore exploded around Mowdoroth’s many sharp teeth.
I saw the woods again, living trees just a few hundred feet away. The trail of black earth ended abruptly, leading out of the boglands. Cultists sprinted blindly through the forest in every direction, scattering like cockroaches. I had nearly reached the border of the forest when I heard something whizzing past my head. I ducked, but the blur of a grayish tentacle coming down sent a jolt of fear like electricity sizzling through my body.
A moment later, a cold agony covered my left hand. In shock, I looked down, realizing that the blade-like appendage of Mowdoroth had neatly amputated all four of my fingers. If I hadn’t ducked, it would’ve probably gotten my head instead.
Stumbling and screaming, my mind in a blind panic, I staggered through the intersection of the boglands and the forest, falling forward. I knew I was dead. I closed my eyes, waiting. Yet nothing happened.
When I looked back, I saw something strange. Mowdoroth had stopped at the end of the boglands. It tried to push its body forward towards me, but it couldn’t enter the forest. It was as if an invisible barrier stood there.
I lay there for a long time. After a while, I heard Mowdoroth slink back into the fetid waters of the boglands. And then I was alone.
***
I wrapped my hand in bandages as much as I could, trying to stem the bleeding. I felt weak and sick from blood loss, so I lay there until the sun came up. The next day, I was able to slowly make my way out of the forest and back towards the nearest town.
Now I hear stories of people mysteriously going missing in the area. An entire family in a nearby farmhouse only a couple dozen miles away disappeared in the middle of the night without a trace, leaving only smeared trails of blood leading into the forest. No one saw anything, but these six victims were only the first in a long line of strange deaths. Oddly enough, all of the victims lived next to swamps.
And I have the feeling that I was the one responsible.

I had been hiking down the Appalachian Trail for over two weeks without issue on the day when the nightmare began. My friend, X, was by my side the entire time. It was, quite honestly, comforting to have someone who stood nearly six-and-a-half feet tall with me, especially during the long, dark nights when the howling of coyotes drew near. Black bears, too, were a constant presence in these dark mountains. As we got farther from towns and civilization, more ancient predators than human beings took over the land, stalking the night like creeping shadows.
For this trip, we both had bought as few supplies as possible. Included in our packs were MREs, two sleeping bags, some tarps and hammocks, some light clothing, and two pistols with a few boxes of ammo. We didn’t want to be too weighed down that we wouldn’t be able to move fast, after all. We would source water from the streams, waterfalls and lakes along the way and filter it using Lifestraws.
As the spring breeze blew past us, cooling the sweat on my face, I noticed the trail ahead of us weaving its way through thick swampland. The buzzing of flies and mosquitoes increased with every step. The green, fetid waters of the swamp bubbled constantly, as if it were whispering secrets to us.
“Ah, shit,” X said, glancing down the hill with his dark, serious eyes. His tanned skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Another swamp. I hate swamps. You know there’s going to be a million mosquitoes and flies down there.” I pulled out the map, squinting down at it. I ran my finger down the trail, seeing the mountains and valleys we had already passed.
“The trail shouldn’t be going through any swamps,” I said. “They’re supposed to be marked. There’s no ponds or anything around here.” And yet there very clearly was. Either we were in a different spot than I thought we were, or the map was outdated. The trail also grew thinner as we descended. The sharp branches of the bushes stuck out like greedy hands, grabbing at our backpacks and clothes as we pressed forward.
“Well, whatever,” X said gruffly, plowing ahead. Twigs cracked under his massive bulk. The thin branches hanging across the path snapped as he plowed forward. I let him go first, since he was significantly bigger than myself. It was like following in the path of a bull.
“The faster we move, the faster we’ll be through it. We don’t want to camp anywhere around here when it gets dark,” X continued, looking grim. “We’ll be eaten alive by bugs by sunrise. We need to make it to the other side of these boglands before we can stop for the night.”
“Yeah, and I could use some more water,” I said, shaking my mostly empty canteen. “I wouldn’t drink this shit no matter what we did to it. It probably has brain-eating parasites crawling in it.” I checked my watch, realizing that dusk was only a half hour away. We would have to move fast indeed, especially as we didn’t know the size of the swamp. I was not enthusiastic about hiking in the dark with the many steep trails and sharp rocks that covered the surrounding land. A single misstep could lead to a very long, bone-shattering fall.
To my increasing dismay, I realized that the trail we were on no longer had the characteristic white markings of the Appalachian Trail. I kept checking the trees for the past fifteen minutes, and I definitely hadn’t seen a single one. I couldn’t remember the last time we had passed one, but I had a creeping suspicion it had been at least a couple hours ago.
“I think we have a problem, man,” I whispered. “I don’t know how it possibly could have happened, but I think we’re on the wrong trail.”
“There’s not supposed to be any other trails around here,” X argued. “Check the map.”
“Then where’s the white blazes? There’s not supposed to be any boglands around here, either, yet we’re walking through the middle of one,” I said. He shook his head.
“Listen, Ben, there’s not going to be markers on the entire Appalachian Trail,” he said. “Just trust me. We’re on the right path. Sometimes forests change. Swamps take over spots where forests used to lay. Hell, the Sahara Desert has been expanding for thousands of years, just eating the forests and plains all around it. There used to be lions and savannah in Morocco, and now it’s all dead and dry.”
I felt doubtful, but I continued forwards, following closely behind X. Neither one of us had ever done the full Appalachian Trail, after all. I hoped he was right. I was not enthusiastic about backtracking two or three hours if he wasn’t.
I thought back closely on our travels during the last few hours, wondering where we could have gone wrong. The trail had been rather overgrown and rocky on the peak of the last mountain. There had been a beautiful view spanning hundreds of miles, looking far off into state forests and winding roads. I remembered seeing the white marker near the top, but after we had started descending, it disappeared. That must have been where we went wrong, if we did, indeed, go off-course. But I couldn’t be sure, and I didn’t tell X about my suspicions.
We finished descending a steep, rocky trail into a valley where the boglands really started. The trees ended in a massive semi-circle around the open swamp. Thick peat covered the entire surface of it like rotted, grayish-brown skin. I saw water snakes quietly disappearing into the stagnant water, leaving behind slowly expanding ripples.
“This is pretty cool,” I said, stopping for a moment at the bottom of the trail to admire the boglands. Our trail continued directly through the center of it, no more than a raised patch of black earth surrounded by green swampy water. I could hear the many insects chirping and flying before we even took a step forward. Though the spring air felt warm and I was covered in sweat, I still reached into my bag, taking out a windbreaker that would cover up my arms and neck to help with the bugs. X did the same.
“Let’s move fast,” he said, giving me a knowing look. He was a much faster hiker than myself. He seemed like a machine sometimes, tireless and single-minded. I had seen him hike over twenty miles in a single day without looking too bent out of shape. I gave him a faint half-smile, picking up my pace.
“You know what they used to say about the boglands?” I asked X. He shook his head.
“I don’t read books,” he said. “If I have time to sit down and read, then it means I have time to go out and do something actually fun. But I’m sure you know all about it.” I gave a short bark of laughter at his off-handed insult. It sounded far too loud echoing back to us through the creepy swamp. The last rays of sunlight were disappearing behind the mountains now. Soon, we would be plunged into darkness.
“Well, in ancient times, people thought the boglands a place where the walls of reality were thin, where the gods would come through. They used to bring their victims out to swamps during rituals, then they would slice their throats or strangle them and dump their bodies into the bogs as an offering to the gods. They also said that strange, shape-shifting creatures would appear, sometimes to deceive travelers, other times to help them,” I said. “But as for human sacrifices, the bogs preserve bodies like nothing else, except maybe tar pits. Archaeologists keep finding victims with slashed throats or shattered skulls buried underneath the peat.”
X was silent for a long moment as we continued walking along the raised patch of earth that formed the trail. We got farther and farther from the forests, until the swamp seemed like a fetid ocean, spanning out to the horizon in every direction.
“Do you think they used to do that kind of stuff around here?” X asked.
“Used to?” I exclaimed, laughing. “I’m sure some psychopaths still do. This is a good place to dump a body, after all. Who the hell wants to trek through the muck and the snakes and mosquitoes out here looking for corpses?”
“The FBI and the cops will do it,” he said, “if they think there’s something to find.” I was about to respond when an ear-splitting shriek echoed out all around us. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from at first. X’s tan skin seemed to go pale as he spun, glancing in every direction.
“What the fuck is that?!” he screamed over the deafening wailing. I didn’t believe in cryptids, but my anxious mind immediately offered up an image of a banshee, a woman with chalk-white skin and black eyes whose shrieking jaw unhinged like a snake’s.
“I’m turning around!” I yelled, pointing back for emphasis. “Dude, fuck this! We need to get out of this swamp!” But X was no longer listening. He was looking past me, his mouth open and his eyes wild. He started backpedaling and nearly fell into the swamp. Windmilling his arms crazily, he turned and sprinted away without a word.
I was afraid to look back. The screaming was getting louder by the second, shaking the air all around me in deafening, crashing waves of sound. I felt like my head would explode if it got any worse. Instinctively, I took off after X, but I glanced back for a single moment before I did. Something loomed there from a nightmare, standing as tall as the trees. It moved through the swamp like a snake, its body slithering through the stagnant green waters towards us. When it met my eyes, the screaming stopped. The abrupt silence seemed deafening. I could hear the fervent pounding of my heart in my ears.
The creature’s skin looked honeycombed and rough, almost like a wasp’s nest. The thousands of tiny holes covering its body constantly opened and closed like hungry mouths. Its arms were long tentacles ending in sharp points of bone in the shape of scythes. The tentacles undulated like serpents. Its legs, too, were no more than four tentacles that alternatively slithered and stepped forward.
Its flesh was the color of peat, a sickly grayish-brown, and the smell that emanated from it was rancid and stagnant, the essence of all boglands and swamps. I nearly gagged as I ran. The putrefying stench seemed to follow me like a shadow.
Ahead of me, X was fumbling in his backpack as he ran, trying to grab his pistol. I knew he had a Glock 21 in that bag, and I had my Sig Sauer in mine. I cursed myself for not keeping it holstered on my body, but I had never had to use it before and hadn’t seriously thought I would need it for this trip. He glanced back at me, his eyes widening in horror.
“It’s right behind you!” he yelled. “Get down!” He dropped his backpack, revealing the sleek, black pistol clenched tightly in his hand. I barely had time to comprehend his words when an immense pressure and numbness radiated through my back. My head snapped backwards as a meaty thud resonated all around me. I went flying forward, feeling as if I had been struck by a car. As I flew through the air, the pain in my back exploded in burning pulses. I felt the deep slice open up from the sharp blade of bone that had slashed me like a knife. I felt trickles of blood pour from the open wound, making my stained shirt cling to my body.
I landed hard on the raised black earth of the trail, a bone-jarring impact that knocked the air out of me. At that same moment, X opened fire, pressing the trigger over and over, emptying the magazine as fast as he could. Something splashed over me, going in my eyes and mouth and nose. I crawled forward, moaning, my head spinning. I wiped my forehead, seeing spatters of green blood squirming with dark, maggot-like creatures covering my arms and face. It clung to my fingers, thick and rancid. I felt stinging sensations as the tiny worms bit me over and over. My ears rang with a high-pitched whine from the gunshots.
X was running towards me now. I continued to crawl towards him, shell-shocked and whimpering, trying to wipe the eldritch blood off my skin. With a muscular arm, he reached down and pulled me up.
“Where’d it go?” I mumbled, stumbling forward on unsteady feet. X put an arm around my shoulders and helped support me.
“It slunk back into the swamp,” he said. “Jesus, you’re bleeding really bad, buddy. We’re going to need to take care of that as soon as we get away from this hellhole.” I felt the deep slices from the creature’s blade-like hands across my back. The fabric of my shirt clung tightly to the skin as fresh blood soaked it.
“This isn’t the trail, X,” I gasped. “We went the wrong way. We need to go back.” He nodded grimly.
“We’re heading back right now. I know it’s the wrong trail now, it definitely is, but it’s dark. The trails back up the mountains are steep and dangerous, and we’ve already been hiking all day. How much longer can we really go?” he asked. In reality, I had a feeling X could go for quite a bit longer. I was the weak link in the chain, and we both knew it.
X took out a small, LED flashlight from his backpack, shining it ahead of us on the dark path. Across the center of the black earth, there was an obstruction, something that hadn’t been there when we passed this way originally.
“Shit! Is that a person?” X said, slowing down. He focused the light on it. As my eyes adjusted, I gave a gasp of horror as I saw a rough sacrificial table looming there, waiting with a ready victim.
Laying on the bare wooden planks in the center of the trail was an elderly man wearing the garb of a hunter. He was gagged, a bloody rag shoved deep into his mouth. I felt a sense of revulsion and terror as I realized his hands and feet were nailed to the planks, as if he were being crucified laying down. His eyes rolled wildly, white and insane, like a horse with a broken leg. When he saw us approaching, he tried to say something through the gag, pulling hard against the nails that bit so viciously into his flesh. Fresh rivers of blood spurted from his wounds.
I had my pistol in my hands. X had taken a fresh magazine out by now, throwing the empty one back in his backpack. Trembling, he went first, his shaking hand moving the flashlight around wildly. Its bright rays bounced off the dead, half-rotted trees that grew out of the boglands, the clouds of mosquitoes and moths that circled us constantly.
“Oh my God... he's like the victim of a serial killer or something,” he whispered, running a trembling hand over his face. “It looks like someone has set that poor guy up to have his heart cut out, like some sort of Aztec ritual.” He glanced worriedly over at me. We had both stopped cold in our tracks, looking around for any sign of danger, but we only saw the old man writhing on his rough table of torture.
“We have to keep going forward,” I whispered. “That thing is behind us. I don’t think it’s dead. I’m not sure it can even die.”
“But what’s ahead of us?” he asked grimly. “That’s the real question, isn’t it?” Far off down the trail, I saw small pinpoints of flickering light. They drew closer. We raised our pistols, waiting for the new arrivals to show themselves.
Dozens of people dressed in black, silky robes holding lamps slowly ambled their way towards us. They had their heads bowed, like monks on a holy pilgrimage. They drew close to the sacrifice. The one in the lead held a long, curving dagger whose blade looked like it was made of some kind of red volcanic rock. Its strange silver handle glittered in his pale, thin hand. At the end, I saw it was sculpted into the shape of a human heart.
“Stop right there!” X screamed, stepping forward. “Don’t come any closer! We are armed, I’m warning you.” The people in the black robes didn’t appear to hear or care in the slightest. They continued slowly following their leader with the strange dagger, almost floating forward in a nonchalant manner. Their leader began chanting in some strange, ancient language. It reminded me of Tibetan or Sanskrit in a way, like the chanting of some Vajrayana monk high up in the Himalayas. But it had a sinister, hissing quality to the words. Something ancient and powerful resonated in every syllable.
I raised the pistol, firing blankly into the dark, cloudless sky above. The smell of gunsmoke and fetid rot hung thick in the air. The leader of the group looked at me with his large, glassy eyes. His face looked sunken and pale, almost like a starving child. He had shaved all of the hair on his head, even his eyebrows. His lips were extremely thin and bloodless in his chalk-white face.
For a long moment, we stood staring at each other, my pistol aimed at his chest. X also had his pistol raised, aimed at one of those standing behind him. But the robed man didn’t speak. He gave me a faint grin.
“Let the old man go,” I commanded, my voice sounding hoarse and weak. The swamp quickly swallowed up my words, until only the buzzing of mosquitoes remained.
“I am sorry, my son, but I cannot do that,” the leader said in a voice as cold as endless space. “If we do not feed Mowdoroth, it will never sleep. The swamps will continue to expand, eating more and more of the surrounding forests and towns, and Mowdoroth, driven insane by hunger, will take far more victims in the process.
“This job has been passed down to us from generation to generation, from big hand to small, for over four centuries. Only twice has Mowdoroth not been fed on the New Moon, and each time, entire settlements full of people were wiped off the face of the Earth as if they had never existed. On one, they just had time to carve the word ‘CROATAN’ before they were taken.
“Mowdoroth looks for the place where the nightmares grow. It breaks open the chest and finds the place where the silent screams start, deep down at the base of the heart. All of the nightmares are planted there, like tiny seeds scattered during childhood. Those that fell on good soil in that abyss produced a great crop, yielding a hundredfold, sixtyfold, or thirtyfold. If you do not allow us to complete our holy mission, then you do it: cut open the man's chest and remove his beating heart. As it beats, squeeze it as hard as you can, and let all the blood drain onto the top of your head. Hold the heart above your head and close your eyes until the god appears and takes it.” The cult leader finished, looking at us with sparkling eyes, as if he had said something profound.
“This shit is just insane drivel,” X whispered in a voice as low as possible. “I say we open fire and save the old man now. Fuck these cultists.” I nodded grimly in agreement.
“You need to all turn around and leave immediately,” X yelled, stepping forward. “I will give you three seconds to turn around and get the hell out of my sight. Three…” At first, the cultists stood as still as statues, simply staring. Finally, the leader sighed and turned away. He shook his head, reminding me of a disappointed parent.
“I tried to warn you,” he said in his thin, quavering voice. “The time has come to give the offering. You must cut out this man’s heart and raise it to Mowdoroth, so he can get the seeds of nightmares freshly sown. The choice is yours now, as you have demanded this power with violence. You can leave this man here to be eaten by Mowdoroth, or free him and, in exchange, guarantee the deaths of hundreds of other people.”
With those last words, the black-robed figures continued down the curve of the trail. Within seconds, they had disappeared behind dead, half-rotted trees that still dotted the edges of the boglands. X and I ran forward toward the struggling old man. X reached into his pocket and pulled out a folding knife. He cut off the old man’s gag, pulling the spit-soaked chunk of filthy cloth out of his mouth. The old man spat and licked his dry lips.
“Get me out of here, please,” he whispered, his eyes rolling wildly. “Those cult members are all batshit insane. And there’s something not right in these swamps. I caught glimpses of something while I was waiting. There’s something in the water…”
“What’s your name, bud?” X said calmingly, looking at the old man’s hands and feet to try to decide how to best get the nails out without causing more damage.
“Winchester,” he said in a coarse voice. It sounded like he hadn’t had a drink of water in days. While X looked at his hands with the LED flashlight, I reached into my pack for the small canteen of filtered water I still had. I started pouring it into Winchester’s mouth. He gulped greedily, his throat working hard to drink down the rest of it.
“I got it!” X said, taking a flat stone he had found on the ground. “I’m going to try to pound these nails out from the bottom.”
“Oh, please, no,” Winchester said, his wrinkled face turning pale. X shook his head.
“We need to get you out of here,” he said. “It’s going to hurt, bud. But we don’t have any tools here. The nails are large, almost like railroad spikes, and once we get the top part, the bottom should slide out easily since it’s a lot narrower.” As he grabbed the rock to begin his work, a bone-chilling wailing started up again from the swamps. It was the scream of Mowdoroth, that abomination with the skin of a wasp’s nest.
“Cover us!” X yelled panickedly as he continued his grisly work. Winchester screamed in pain when X first struck the nail on his right hand. It shot up a fraction of an inch, fresh blood pooling all around it and dripping through the bare planks.
I turned, but the banshee wail seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. The swamp bubbled faster and faster all around us, as if thousands of corpses were coming back to life. I heard Winchester scream again, then the dull thud of another nail hitting the earth.
A face peeked out of the swamp, only twenty feet away. Its eyes were green, the color of a putrefying wound. Its lipless mouth opened wide, showing a spongy black mass of skin with concentric circles of tiny, razor-sharp teeth. It reminded me of the mouth of a lamprey.
I opened fire, shooting wildly at the face, aiming at the body hidden under the dark surface of the swamp. Luminescent drops of green blood exploded from a bullet hole in its upper right shoulder, floating across the surface of the water like radioactive waste.
Its screaming cut off instantly. All I could hear was the pounding of the rock behind me and Winchester’s pained, horrified pleas for mercy.
“Please, you’re hurting me!” he pleaded.
“Shut the fuck up, Winchester!” I whispered. “It’s here with us now.” With considerable effort, he did, only moaning and violently jerking his head now as the waves of pain ripped through him.
“I got it!” X said suddenly. A feeling of elation filled my heart.
“Let’s go then!” I yelled, turning to help the old man up. I heard something massive rise up behind us. It mixed with the sound of dripping water and babbling waves that arose from the disturbance.
Winchester was weak, stumbling up to his feet and nearly falling over immediately. Staggering, he took off down the trail with no shoes, but he immediately gave a curse of pain and tripped. X and I started running, and at that moment, I realized the flaw in our plan. We wouldn’t be able to get Winchester out of the swamp without carrying him, due to the extensive injuries to his feet. And I knew we didn’t have time.
Mowdoroth’s body stood as tall as the trees as it looked down at the three of us with its strange, infected eyes. Its tentacles undulated faster and faster, seeming to whip around its body until they flew out towards us.
“Run!” I screamed. X and I sprinted behind a cluster of dead trees hugging the path. The blade-like hand of Mowdoroth chopped them in a half, raining wood splinters down on our heads.
Winchester continued trying to crawl forward. Mowdoroth slithered behind him. Winchester looked up as a tentacle started coming down in his direction. He gave a short, panicked scream as the blade smashed through his back legs, chopping both of them off at the knees. The ground shook with the force of it. The stumps began spurting seemingly endless amounts of blood. Winchester pleaded and made incomprehensible gurgling sounds as he bled out. Mowdoroth ended Winchester’s cries when it wrapped its tentacle around Winchester’s torso. It slithered up into Winchester’s open mouth.
X and I shot as fast as we could while running forward in the dark, trying to hold a flashlight and a pistol. Most of my shots missed Mowdoroth, but with a sense of satisfaction and pride, I saw a few burst through its enormous body. Streams of radioactive green blood ran down its torso now. As its serpentine legs pumped furiously, it gained speed, coming behind us like a runaway train. I could feel the ground shaking with every thud of its tentacled feet.
A few hundred feet ahead of us, I caught a glimpse of the cultists. They were hurrying away from the area, not running but moving much faster than they had come in. Nearly out of breath already and exhausted from hiking all day, I pointed forward.
“Look!” I screamed. X saw them, his eyes widening. We sprinted in a blind panic, as fast as we could towards the stragglers in the black robes. Without warning, X raised his pistol and fired, aiming at the nearest of them.
The figure in the back of the pack fell forward without making a sound. He continued trying to crawl forward weakly for a few moments before he lost energy and lay still, no more than a bleeding black hump on the dark earth.
X gave a sudden cry of pain next to me as a tentacle came down like a guillotine blade. I heard it whip through the air with a high-pitched whine. A single breath later, I watched in horror as it sliced off his right arm. X looked down at the spurting stump for a long moment, his tanned face turning as pale as bones. He stumbled forward, then, with a hoarse cry, he fell.
Following X’s lead, I raised my gun and started shooting the cultists. They sprinted away in a random panic as bodies fell ahead of us. I jumped over the black lumps on the ground, hearing Mowdoroth shake the world as it gave chase. A long, snake-like tentacle reached down, picking up X’s spurting body and raising it towards Mowdoroth’s leech-like mouth. The massive abomination slowed, picking up the bodies of the dead cultists and crushing them. I heard the bones shatter as the wet gore exploded around Mowdoroth’s many sharp teeth.
I saw the woods again, living trees just a few hundred feet away. The trail of black earth ended abruptly, leading out of the boglands. Cultists sprinted blindly through the forest in every direction, scattering like cockroaches. I had nearly reached the border of the forest when I heard something whizzing past my head. I ducked, but the blur of a grayish tentacle coming down sent a jolt of fear like electricity sizzling through my body.
A moment later, a cold agony covered my left hand. In shock, I looked down, realizing that the blade-like appendage of Mowdoroth had neatly amputated all four of my fingers. If I hadn’t ducked, it would’ve probably gotten my head instead.
Stumbling and screaming, my mind in a blind panic, I staggered through the intersection of the boglands and the forest, falling forward. I knew I was dead. I closed my eyes, waiting. Yet nothing happened.
When I looked back, I saw something strange. Mowdoroth had stopped at the end of the boglands. It tried to push its body forward towards me, but it couldn’t enter the forest. It was as if an invisible barrier stood there.
I lay there for a long time. After a while, I heard Mowdoroth slink back into the fetid waters of the boglands. And then I was alone.
***
I wrapped my hand in bandages as much as I could, trying to stem the bleeding. I felt weak and sick from blood loss, so I lay there until the sun came up. The next day, I was able to slowly make my way out of the forest and back towards the nearest town.
Now I hear stories of people mysteriously going missing in the area. An entire family in a nearby farmhouse only a couple dozen miles away disappeared in the middle of the night without a trace, leaving only smeared trails of blood leading into the forest. No one saw anything, but these six victims were only the first in a long line of strange deaths. Oddly enough, all of the victims lived next to swamps.
And I have the feeling that I was the one responsible.

I had been hiking down the Appalachian Trail for over two weeks without issue on the day when the nightmare began. My friend, X, was by my side the entire time. It was, quite honestly, comforting to have someone who stood nearly six-and-a-half feet tall with me, especially during the long, dark nights when the howling of coyotes drew near. Black bears, too, were a constant presence in these dark mountains. As we got farther from towns and civilization, more ancient predators than human beings took over the land, stalking the night like creeping shadows.
For this trip, we both had bought as few supplies as possible. Included in our packs were MREs, two sleeping bags, some tarps and hammocks, some light clothing, and two pistols with a few boxes of ammo. We didn’t want to be too weighed down that we wouldn’t be able to move fast, after all. We would source water from the streams, waterfalls and lakes along the way and filter it using Lifestraws.
As the spring breeze blew past us, cooling the sweat on my face, I noticed the trail ahead of us weaving its way through thick swampland. The buzzing of flies and mosquitoes increased with every step. The green, fetid waters of the swamp bubbled constantly, as if it were whispering secrets to us.
“Ah, shit,” X said, glancing down the hill with his dark, serious eyes. His tanned skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Another swamp. I hate swamps. You know there’s going to be a million mosquitoes and flies down there.” I pulled out the map, squinting down at it. I ran my finger down the trail, seeing the mountains and valleys we had already passed.
“The trail shouldn’t be going through any swamps,” I said. “They’re supposed to be marked. There’s no ponds or anything around here.” And yet there very clearly was. Either we were in a different spot than I thought we were, or the map was outdated. The trail also grew thinner as we descended. The sharp branches of the bushes stuck out like greedy hands, grabbing at our backpacks and clothes as we pressed forward.
“Well, whatever,” X said gruffly, plowing ahead. Twigs cracked under his massive bulk. The thin branches hanging across the path snapped as he plowed forward. I let him go first, since he was significantly bigger than myself. It was like following in the path of a bull.
“The faster we move, the faster we’ll be through it. We don’t want to camp anywhere around here when it gets dark,” X continued, looking grim. “We’ll be eaten alive by bugs by sunrise. We need to make it to the other side of these boglands before we can stop for the night.”
“Yeah, and I could use some more water,” I said, shaking my mostly empty canteen. “I wouldn’t drink this shit no matter what we did to it. It probably has brain-eating parasites crawling in it.” I checked my watch, realizing that dusk was only a half hour away. We would have to move fast indeed, especially as we didn’t know the size of the swamp. I was not enthusiastic about hiking in the dark with the many steep trails and sharp rocks that covered the surrounding land. A single misstep could lead to a very long, bone-shattering fall.
To my increasing dismay, I realized that the trail we were on no longer had the characteristic white markings of the Appalachian Trail. I kept checking the trees for the past fifteen minutes, and I definitely hadn’t seen a single one. I couldn’t remember the last time we had passed one, but I had a creeping suspicion it had been at least a couple hours ago.
“I think we have a problem, man,” I whispered. “I don’t know how it possibly could have happened, but I think we’re on the wrong trail.”
“There’s not supposed to be any other trails around here,” X argued. “Check the map.”
“Then where’s the white blazes? There’s not supposed to be any boglands around here, either, yet we’re walking through the middle of one,” I said. He shook his head.
“Listen, Ben, there’s not going to be markers on the entire Appalachian Trail,” he said. “Just trust me. We’re on the right path. Sometimes forests change. Swamps take over spots where forests used to lay. Hell, the Sahara Desert has been expanding for thousands of years, just eating the forests and plains all around it. There used to be lions and savannah in Morocco, and now it’s all dead and dry.”
I felt doubtful, but I continued forwards, following closely behind X. Neither one of us had ever done the full Appalachian Trail, after all. I hoped he was right. I was not enthusiastic about backtracking two or three hours if he wasn’t.
I thought back closely on our travels during the last few hours, wondering where we could have gone wrong. The trail had been rather overgrown and rocky on the peak of the last mountain. There had been a beautiful view spanning hundreds of miles, looking far off into state forests and winding roads. I remembered seeing the white marker near the top, but after we had started descending, it disappeared. That must have been where we went wrong, if we did, indeed, go off-course. But I couldn’t be sure, and I didn’t tell X about my suspicions.
We finished descending a steep, rocky trail into a valley where the boglands really started. The trees ended in a massive semi-circle around the open swamp. Thick peat covered the entire surface of it like rotted, grayish-brown skin. I saw water snakes quietly disappearing into the stagnant water, leaving behind slowly expanding ripples.
“This is pretty cool,” I said, stopping for a moment at the bottom of the trail to admire the boglands. Our trail continued directly through the center of it, no more than a raised patch of black earth surrounded by green swampy water. I could hear the many insects chirping and flying before we even took a step forward. Though the spring air felt warm and I was covered in sweat, I still reached into my bag, taking out a windbreaker that would cover up my arms and neck to help with the bugs. X did the same.
“Let’s move fast,” he said, giving me a knowing look. He was a much faster hiker than myself. He seemed like a machine sometimes, tireless and single-minded. I had seen him hike over twenty miles in a single day without looking too bent out of shape. I gave him a faint half-smile, picking up my pace.
“You know what they used to say about the boglands?” I asked X. He shook his head.
“I don’t read books,” he said. “If I have time to sit down and read, then it means I have time to go out and do something actually fun. But I’m sure you know all about it.” I gave a short bark of laughter at his off-handed insult. It sounded far too loud echoing back to us through the creepy swamp. The last rays of sunlight were disappearing behind the mountains now. Soon, we would be plunged into darkness.
“Well, in ancient times, people thought the boglands a place where the walls of reality were thin, where the gods would come through. They used to bring their victims out to swamps during rituals, then they would slice their throats or strangle them and dump their bodies into the bogs as an offering to the gods. They also said that strange, shape-shifting creatures would appear, sometimes to deceive travelers, other times to help them,” I said. “But as for human sacrifices, the bogs preserve bodies like nothing else, except maybe tar pits. Archaeologists keep finding victims with slashed throats or shattered skulls buried underneath the peat.”
X was silent for a long moment as we continued walking along the raised patch of earth that formed the trail. We got farther and farther from the forests, until the swamp seemed like a fetid ocean, spanning out to the horizon in every direction.
“Do you think they used to do that kind of stuff around here?” X asked.
“Used to?” I exclaimed, laughing. “I’m sure some psychopaths still do. This is a good place to dump a body, after all. Who the hell wants to trek through the muck and the snakes and mosquitoes out here looking for corpses?”
“The FBI and the cops will do it,” he said, “if they think there’s something to find.” I was about to respond when an ear-splitting shriek echoed out all around us. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from at first. X’s tan skin seemed to go pale as he spun, glancing in every direction.
“What the fuck is that?!” he screamed over the deafening wailing. I didn’t believe in cryptids, but my anxious mind immediately offered up an image of a banshee, a woman with chalk-white skin and black eyes whose shrieking jaw unhinged like a snake’s.
“I’m turning around!” I yelled, pointing back for emphasis. “Dude, fuck this! We need to get out of this swamp!” But X was no longer listening. He was looking past me, his mouth open and his eyes wild. He started backpedaling and nearly fell into the swamp. Windmilling his arms crazily, he turned and sprinted away without a word.
I was afraid to look back. The screaming was getting louder by the second, shaking the air all around me in deafening, crashing waves of sound. I felt like my head would explode if it got any worse. Instinctively, I took off after X, but I glanced back for a single moment before I did. Something loomed there from a nightmare, standing as tall as the trees. It moved through the swamp like a snake, its body slithering through the stagnant green waters towards us. When it met my eyes, the screaming stopped. The abrupt silence seemed deafening. I could hear the fervent pounding of my heart in my ears.
The creature’s skin looked honeycombed and rough, almost like a wasp’s nest. The thousands of tiny holes covering its body constantly opened and closed like hungry mouths. Its arms were long tentacles ending in sharp points of bone in the shape of scythes. The tentacles undulated like serpents. Its legs, too, were no more than four tentacles that alternatively slithered and stepped forward.
Its flesh was the color of peat, a sickly grayish-brown, and the smell that emanated from it was rancid and stagnant, the essence of all boglands and swamps. I nearly gagged as I ran. The putrefying stench seemed to follow me like a shadow.
Ahead of me, X was fumbling in his backpack as he ran, trying to grab his pistol. I knew he had a Glock 21 in that bag, and I had my Sig Sauer in mine. I cursed myself for not keeping it holstered on my body, but I had never had to use it before and hadn’t seriously thought I would need it for this trip. He glanced back at me, his eyes widening in horror.
“It’s right behind you!” he yelled. “Get down!” He dropped his backpack, revealing the sleek, black pistol clenched tightly in his hand. I barely had time to comprehend his words when an immense pressure and numbness radiated through my back. My head snapped backwards as a meaty thud resonated all around me. I went flying forward, feeling as if I had been struck by a car. As I flew through the air, the pain in my back exploded in burning pulses. I felt the deep slice open up from the sharp blade of bone that had slashed me like a knife. I felt trickles of blood pour from the open wound, making my stained shirt cling to my body.
I landed hard on the raised black earth of the trail, a bone-jarring impact that knocked the air out of me. At that same moment, X opened fire, pressing the trigger over and over, emptying the magazine as fast as he could. Something splashed over me, going in my eyes and mouth and nose. I crawled forward, moaning, my head spinning. I wiped my forehead, seeing spatters of green blood squirming with dark, maggot-like creatures covering my arms and face. It clung to my fingers, thick and rancid. I felt stinging sensations as the tiny worms bit me over and over. My ears rang with a high-pitched whine from the gunshots.
X was running towards me now. I continued to crawl towards him, shell-shocked and whimpering, trying to wipe the eldritch blood off my skin. With a muscular arm, he reached down and pulled me up.
“Where’d it go?” I mumbled, stumbling forward on unsteady feet. X put an arm around my shoulders and helped support me.
“It slunk back into the swamp,” he said. “Jesus, you’re bleeding really bad, buddy. We’re going to need to take care of that as soon as we get away from this hellhole.” I felt the deep slices from the creature’s blade-like hands across my back. The fabric of my shirt clung tightly to the skin as fresh blood soaked it.
“This isn’t the trail, X,” I gasped. “We went the wrong way. We need to go back.” He nodded grimly.
“We’re heading back right now. I know it’s the wrong trail now, it definitely is, but it’s dark. The trails back up the mountains are steep and dangerous, and we’ve already been hiking all day. How much longer can we really go?” he asked. In reality, I had a feeling X could go for quite a bit longer. I was the weak link in the chain, and we both knew it.
X took out a small, LED flashlight from his backpack, shining it ahead of us on the dark path. Across the center of the black earth, there was an obstruction, something that hadn’t been there when we passed this way originally.
“Shit! Is that a person?” X said, slowing down. He focused the light on it. As my eyes adjusted, I gave a gasp of horror as I saw a rough sacrificial table looming there, waiting with a ready victim.
Laying on the bare wooden planks in the center of the trail was an elderly man wearing the garb of a hunter. He was gagged, a bloody rag shoved deep into his mouth. I felt a sense of revulsion and terror as I realized his hands and feet were nailed to the planks, as if he were being crucified laying down. His eyes rolled wildly, white and insane, like a horse with a broken leg. When he saw us approaching, he tried to say something through the gag, pulling hard against the nails that bit so viciously into his flesh. Fresh rivers of blood spurted from his wounds.
I had my pistol in my hands. X had taken a fresh magazine out by now, throwing the empty one back in his backpack. Trembling, he went first, his shaking hand moving the flashlight around wildly. Its bright rays bounced off the dead, half-rotted trees that grew out of the boglands, the clouds of mosquitoes and moths that circled us constantly.
“Oh my God... he's like the victim of a serial killer or something,” he whispered, running a trembling hand over his face. “It looks like someone has set that poor guy up to have his heart cut out, like some sort of Aztec ritual.” He glanced worriedly over at me. We had both stopped cold in our tracks, looking around for any sign of danger, but we only saw the old man writhing on his rough table of torture.
“We have to keep going forward,” I whispered. “That thing is behind us. I don’t think it’s dead. I’m not sure it can even die.”
“But what’s ahead of us?” he asked grimly. “That’s the real question, isn’t it?” Far off down the trail, I saw small pinpoints of flickering light. They drew closer. We raised our pistols, waiting for the new arrivals to show themselves.
Dozens of people dressed in black, silky robes holding lamps slowly ambled their way towards us. They had their heads bowed, like monks on a holy pilgrimage. They drew close to the sacrifice. The one in the lead held a long, curving dagger whose blade looked like it was made of some kind of red volcanic rock. Its strange silver handle glittered in his pale, thin hand. At the end, I saw it was sculpted into the shape of a human heart.
“Stop right there!” X screamed, stepping forward. “Don’t come any closer! We are armed, I’m warning you.” The people in the black robes didn’t appear to hear or care in the slightest. They continued slowly following their leader with the strange dagger, almost floating forward in a nonchalant manner. Their leader began chanting in some strange, ancient language. It reminded me of Tibetan or Sanskrit in a way, like the chanting of some Vajrayana monk high up in the Himalayas. But it had a sinister, hissing quality to the words. Something ancient and powerful resonated in every syllable.
I raised the pistol, firing blankly into the dark, cloudless sky above. The smell of gunsmoke and fetid rot hung thick in the air. The leader of the group looked at me with his large, glassy eyes. His face looked sunken and pale, almost like a starving child. He had shaved all of the hair on his head, even his eyebrows. His lips were extremely thin and bloodless in his chalk-white face.
For a long moment, we stood staring at each other, my pistol aimed at his chest. X also had his pistol raised, aimed at one of those standing behind him. But the robed man didn’t speak. He gave me a faint grin.
“Let the old man go,” I commanded, my voice sounding hoarse and weak. The swamp quickly swallowed up my words, until only the buzzing of mosquitoes remained.
“I am sorry, my son, but I cannot do that,” the leader said in a voice as cold as endless space. “If we do not feed Mowdoroth, it will never sleep. The swamps will continue to expand, eating more and more of the surrounding forests and towns, and Mowdoroth, driven insane by hunger, will take far more victims in the process.
“This job has been passed down to us from generation to generation, from big hand to small, for over four centuries. Only twice has Mowdoroth not been fed on the New Moon, and each time, entire settlements full of people were wiped off the face of the Earth as if they had never existed. On one, they just had time to carve the word ‘CROATAN’ before they were taken.
“Mowdoroth looks for the place where the nightmares grow. It breaks open the chest and finds the place where the silent screams start, deep down at the base of the heart. All of the nightmares are planted there, like tiny seeds scattered during childhood. Those that fell on good soil in that abyss produced a great crop, yielding a hundredfold, sixtyfold, or thirtyfold. If you do not allow us to complete our holy mission, then you do it: cut open the man's chest and remove his beating heart. As it beats, squeeze it as hard as you can, and let all the blood drain onto the top of your head. Hold the heart above your head and close your eyes until the god appears and takes it.” The cult leader finished, looking at us with sparkling eyes, as if he had said something profound.
“This shit is just insane drivel,” X whispered in a voice as low as possible. “I say we open fire and save the old man now. Fuck these cultists.” I nodded grimly in agreement.
“You need to all turn around and leave immediately,” X yelled, stepping forward. “I will give you three seconds to turn around and get the hell out of my sight. Three…” At first, the cultists stood as still as statues, simply staring. Finally, the leader sighed and turned away. He shook his head, reminding me of a disappointed parent.
“I tried to warn you,” he said in his thin, quavering voice. “The time has come to give the offering. You must cut out this man’s heart and raise it to Mowdoroth, so he can get the seeds of nightmares freshly sown. The choice is yours now, as you have demanded this power with violence. You can leave this man here to be eaten by Mowdoroth, or free him and, in exchange, guarantee the deaths of hundreds of other people.”
With those last words, the black-robed figures continued down the curve of the trail. Within seconds, they had disappeared behind dead, half-rotted trees that still dotted the edges of the boglands. X and I ran forward toward the struggling old man. X reached into his pocket and pulled out a folding knife. He cut off the old man’s gag, pulling the spit-soaked chunk of filthy cloth out of his mouth. The old man spat and licked his dry lips.
“Get me out of here, please,” he whispered, his eyes rolling wildly. “Those cult members are all batshit insane. And there’s something not right in these swamps. I caught glimpses of something while I was waiting. There’s something in the water…”
“What’s your name, bud?” X said calmingly, looking at the old man’s hands and feet to try to decide how to best get the nails out without causing more damage.
“Winchester,” he said in a coarse voice. It sounded like he hadn’t had a drink of water in days. While X looked at his hands with the LED flashlight, I reached into my pack for the small canteen of filtered water I still had. I started pouring it into Winchester’s mouth. He gulped greedily, his throat working hard to drink down the rest of it.
“I got it!” X said, taking a flat stone he had found on the ground. “I’m going to try to pound these nails out from the bottom.”
“Oh, please, no,” Winchester said, his wrinkled face turning pale. X shook his head.
“We need to get you out of here,” he said. “It’s going to hurt, bud. But we don’t have any tools here. The nails are large, almost like railroad spikes, and once we get the top part, the bottom should slide out easily since it’s a lot narrower.” As he grabbed the rock to begin his work, a bone-chilling wailing started up again from the swamps. It was the scream of Mowdoroth, that abomination with the skin of a wasp’s nest.
“Cover us!” X yelled panickedly as he continued his grisly work. Winchester screamed in pain when X first struck the nail on his right hand. It shot up a fraction of an inch, fresh blood pooling all around it and dripping through the bare planks.
I turned, but the banshee wail seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. The swamp bubbled faster and faster all around us, as if thousands of corpses were coming back to life. I heard Winchester scream again, then the dull thud of another nail hitting the earth.
A face peeked out of the swamp, only twenty feet away. Its eyes were green, the color of a putrefying wound. Its lipless mouth opened wide, showing a spongy black mass of skin with concentric circles of tiny, razor-sharp teeth. It reminded me of the mouth of a lamprey.
I opened fire, shooting wildly at the face, aiming at the body hidden under the dark surface of the swamp. Luminescent drops of green blood exploded from a bullet hole in its upper right shoulder, floating across the surface of the water like radioactive waste.
Its screaming cut off instantly. All I could hear was the pounding of the rock behind me and Winchester’s pained, horrified pleas for mercy.
“Please, you’re hurting me!” he pleaded.
“Shut the fuck up, Winchester!” I whispered. “It’s here with us now.” With considerable effort, he did, only moaning and violently jerking his head now as the waves of pain ripped through him.
“I got it!” X said suddenly. A feeling of elation filled my heart.
“Let’s go then!” I yelled, turning to help the old man up. I heard something massive rise up behind us. It mixed with the sound of dripping water and babbling waves that arose from the disturbance.
Winchester was weak, stumbling up to his feet and nearly falling over immediately. Staggering, he took off down the trail with no shoes, but he immediately gave a curse of pain and tripped. X and I started running, and at that moment, I realized the flaw in our plan. We wouldn’t be able to get Winchester out of the swamp without carrying him, due to the extensive injuries to his feet. And I knew we didn’t have time.
Mowdoroth’s body stood as tall as the trees as it looked down at the three of us with its strange, infected eyes. Its tentacles undulated faster and faster, seeming to whip around its body until they flew out towards us.
“Run!” I screamed. X and I sprinted behind a cluster of dead trees hugging the path. The blade-like hand of Mowdoroth chopped them in a half, raining wood splinters down on our heads.
Winchester continued trying to crawl forward. Mowdoroth slithered behind him. Winchester looked up as a tentacle started coming down in his direction. He gave a short, panicked scream as the blade smashed through his back legs, chopping both of them off at the knees. The ground shook with the force of it. The stumps began spurting seemingly endless amounts of blood. Winchester pleaded and made incomprehensible gurgling sounds as he bled out. Mowdoroth ended Winchester’s cries when it wrapped its tentacle around Winchester’s torso. It slithered up into Winchester’s open mouth.
X and I shot as fast as we could while running forward in the dark, trying to hold a flashlight and a pistol. Most of my shots missed Mowdoroth, but with a sense of satisfaction and pride, I saw a few burst through its enormous body. Streams of radioactive green blood ran down its torso now. As its serpentine legs pumped furiously, it gained speed, coming behind us like a runaway train. I could feel the ground shaking with every thud of its tentacled feet.
A few hundred feet ahead of us, I caught a glimpse of the cultists. They were hurrying away from the area, not running but moving much faster than they had come in. Nearly out of breath already and exhausted from hiking all day, I pointed forward.
“Look!” I screamed. X saw them, his eyes widening. We sprinted in a blind panic, as fast as we could towards the stragglers in the black robes. Without warning, X raised his pistol and fired, aiming at the nearest of them.
The figure in the back of the pack fell forward without making a sound. He continued trying to crawl forward weakly for a few moments before he lost energy and lay still, no more than a bleeding black hump on the dark earth.
X gave a sudden cry of pain next to me as a tentacle came down like a guillotine blade. I heard it whip through the air with a high-pitched whine. A single breath later, I watched in horror as it sliced off his right arm. X looked down at the spurting stump for a long moment, his tanned face turning as pale as bones. He stumbled forward, then, with a hoarse cry, he fell.
Following X’s lead, I raised my gun and started shooting the cultists. They sprinted away in a random panic as bodies fell ahead of us. I jumped over the black lumps on the ground, hearing Mowdoroth shake the world as it gave chase. A long, snake-like tentacle reached down, picking up X’s spurting body and raising it towards Mowdoroth’s leech-like mouth. The massive abomination slowed, picking up the bodies of the dead cultists and crushing them. I heard the bones shatter as the wet gore exploded around Mowdoroth’s many sharp teeth.
I saw the woods again, living trees just a few hundred feet away. The trail of black earth ended abruptly, leading out of the boglands. Cultists sprinted blindly through the forest in every direction, scattering like cockroaches. I had nearly reached the border of the forest when I heard something whizzing past my head. I ducked, but the blur of a grayish tentacle coming down sent a jolt of fear like electricity sizzling through my body.
A moment later, a cold agony covered my left hand. In shock, I looked down, realizing that the blade-like appendage of Mowdoroth had neatly amputated all four of my fingers. If I hadn’t ducked, it would’ve probably gotten my head instead.
Stumbling and screaming, my mind in a blind panic, I staggered through the intersection of the boglands and the forest, falling forward. I knew I was dead. I closed my eyes, waiting. Yet nothing happened.
When I looked back, I saw something strange. Mowdoroth had stopped at the end of the boglands. It tried to push its body forward towards me, but it couldn’t enter the forest. It was as if an invisible barrier stood there.
I lay there for a long time. After a while, I heard Mowdoroth slink back into the fetid waters of the boglands. And then I was alone.
***
I wrapped my hand in bandages as much as I could, trying to stem the bleeding. I felt weak and sick from blood loss, so I lay there until the sun came up. The next day, I was able to slowly make my way out of the forest and back towards the nearest town.
Now I hear stories of people mysteriously going missing in the area. An entire family in a nearby farmhouse only a couple dozen miles away disappeared in the middle of the night without a trace, leaving only smeared trails of blood leading into the forest. No one saw anything, but these six victims were only the first in a long line of strange deaths. Oddly enough, all of the victims lived next to swamps.
And I have the feeling that I was the one responsible.

I had been hiking down the Appalachian Trail for over two weeks without issue on the day when the nightmare began. My friend, X, was by my side the entire time. It was, quite honestly, comforting to have someone who stood nearly six-and-a-half feet tall with me, especially during the long, dark nights when the howling of coyotes drew near. Black bears, too, were a constant presence in these dark mountains. As we got farther from towns and civilization, more ancient predators than human beings took over the land, stalking the night like creeping shadows.
For this trip, we both had bought as few supplies as possible. Included in our packs were MREs, two sleeping bags, some tarps and hammocks, some light clothing, and two pistols with a few boxes of ammo. We didn’t want to be too weighed down that we wouldn’t be able to move fast, after all. We would source water from the streams, waterfalls and lakes along the way and filter it using Lifestraws.
As the spring breeze blew past us, cooling the sweat on my face, I noticed the trail ahead of us weaving its way through thick swampland. The buzzing of flies and mosquitoes increased with every step. The green, fetid waters of the swamp bubbled constantly, as if it were whispering secrets to us.
“Ah, shit,” X said, glancing down the hill with his dark, serious eyes. His tanned skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Another swamp. I hate swamps. You know there’s going to be a million mosquitoes and flies down there.” I pulled out the map, squinting down at it. I ran my finger down the trail, seeing the mountains and valleys we had already passed.
“The trail shouldn’t be going through any swamps,” I said. “They’re supposed to be marked. There’s no ponds or anything around here.” And yet there very clearly was. Either we were in a different spot than I thought we were, or the map was outdated. The trail also grew thinner as we descended. The sharp branches of the bushes stuck out like greedy hands, grabbing at our backpacks and clothes as we pressed forward.
“Well, whatever,” X said gruffly, plowing ahead. Twigs cracked under his massive bulk. The thin branches hanging across the path snapped as he plowed forward. I let him go first, since he was significantly bigger than myself. It was like following in the path of a bull.
“The faster we move, the faster we’ll be through it. We don’t want to camp anywhere around here when it gets dark,” X continued, looking grim. “We’ll be eaten alive by bugs by sunrise. We need to make it to the other side of these boglands before we can stop for the night.”
“Yeah, and I could use some more water,” I said, shaking my mostly empty canteen. “I wouldn’t drink this shit no matter what we did to it. It probably has brain-eating parasites crawling in it.” I checked my watch, realizing that dusk was only a half hour away. We would have to move fast indeed, especially as we didn’t know the size of the swamp. I was not enthusiastic about hiking in the dark with the many steep trails and sharp rocks that covered the surrounding land. A single misstep could lead to a very long, bone-shattering fall.
To my increasing dismay, I realized that the trail we were on no longer had the characteristic white markings of the Appalachian Trail. I kept checking the trees for the past fifteen minutes, and I definitely hadn’t seen a single one. I couldn’t remember the last time we had passed one, but I had a creeping suspicion it had been at least a couple hours ago.
“I think we have a problem, man,” I whispered. “I don’t know how it possibly could have happened, but I think we’re on the wrong trail.”
“There’s not supposed to be any other trails around here,” X argued. “Check the map.”
“Then where’s the white blazes? There’s not supposed to be any boglands around here, either, yet we’re walking through the middle of one,” I said. He shook his head.
“Listen, Ben, there’s not going to be markers on the entire Appalachian Trail,” he said. “Just trust me. We’re on the right path. Sometimes forests change. Swamps take over spots where forests used to lay. Hell, the Sahara Desert has been expanding for thousands of years, just eating the forests and plains all around it. There used to be lions and savannah in Morocco, and now it’s all dead and dry.”
I felt doubtful, but I continued forwards, following closely behind X. Neither one of us had ever done the full Appalachian Trail, after all. I hoped he was right. I was not enthusiastic about backtracking two or three hours if he wasn’t.
I thought back closely on our travels during the last few hours, wondering where we could have gone wrong. The trail had been rather overgrown and rocky on the peak of the last mountain. There had been a beautiful view spanning hundreds of miles, looking far off into state forests and winding roads. I remembered seeing the white marker near the top, but after we had started descending, it disappeared. That must have been where we went wrong, if we did, indeed, go off-course. But I couldn’t be sure, and I didn’t tell X about my suspicions.
We finished descending a steep, rocky trail into a valley where the boglands really started. The trees ended in a massive semi-circle around the open swamp. Thick peat covered the entire surface of it like rotted, grayish-brown skin. I saw water snakes quietly disappearing into the stagnant water, leaving behind slowly expanding ripples.
“This is pretty cool,” I said, stopping for a moment at the bottom of the trail to admire the boglands. Our trail continued directly through the center of it, no more than a raised patch of black earth surrounded by green swampy water. I could hear the many insects chirping and flying before we even took a step forward. Though the spring air felt warm and I was covered in sweat, I still reached into my bag, taking out a windbreaker that would cover up my arms and neck to help with the bugs. X did the same.
“Let’s move fast,” he said, giving me a knowing look. He was a much faster hiker than myself. He seemed like a machine sometimes, tireless and single-minded. I had seen him hike over twenty miles in a single day without looking too bent out of shape. I gave him a faint half-smile, picking up my pace.
“You know what they used to say about the boglands?” I asked X. He shook his head.
“I don’t read books,” he said. “If I have time to sit down and read, then it means I have time to go out and do something actually fun. But I’m sure you know all about it.” I gave a short bark of laughter at his off-handed insult. It sounded far too loud echoing back to us through the creepy swamp. The last rays of sunlight were disappearing behind the mountains now. Soon, we would be plunged into darkness.
“Well, in ancient times, people thought the boglands a place where the walls of reality were thin, where the gods would come through. They used to bring their victims out to swamps during rituals, then they would slice their throats or strangle them and dump their bodies into the bogs as an offering to the gods. They also said that strange, shape-shifting creatures would appear, sometimes to deceive travelers, other times to help them,” I said. “But as for human sacrifices, the bogs preserve bodies like nothing else, except maybe tar pits. Archaeologists keep finding victims with slashed throats or shattered skulls buried underneath the peat.”
X was silent for a long moment as we continued walking along the raised patch of earth that formed the trail. We got farther and farther from the forests, until the swamp seemed like a fetid ocean, spanning out to the horizon in every direction.
“Do you think they used to do that kind of stuff around here?” X asked.
“Used to?” I exclaimed, laughing. “I’m sure some psychopaths still do. This is a good place to dump a body, after all. Who the hell wants to trek through the muck and the snakes and mosquitoes out here looking for corpses?”
“The FBI and the cops will do it,” he said, “if they think there’s something to find.” I was about to respond when an ear-splitting shriek echoed out all around us. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from at first. X’s tan skin seemed to go pale as he spun, glancing in every direction.
“What the fuck is that?!” he screamed over the deafening wailing. I didn’t believe in cryptids, but my anxious mind immediately offered up an image of a banshee, a woman with chalk-white skin and black eyes whose shrieking jaw unhinged like a snake’s.
“I’m turning around!” I yelled, pointing back for emphasis. “Dude, fuck this! We need to get out of this swamp!” But X was no longer listening. He was looking past me, his mouth open and his eyes wild. He started backpedaling and nearly fell into the swamp. Windmilling his arms crazily, he turned and sprinted away without a word.
I was afraid to look back. The screaming was getting louder by the second, shaking the air all around me in deafening, crashing waves of sound. I felt like my head would explode if it got any worse. Instinctively, I took off after X, but I glanced back for a single moment before I did. Something loomed there from a nightmare, standing as tall as the trees. It moved through the swamp like a snake, its body slithering through the stagnant green waters towards us. When it met my eyes, the screaming stopped. The abrupt silence seemed deafening. I could hear the fervent pounding of my heart in my ears.
The creature’s skin looked honeycombed and rough, almost like a wasp’s nest. The thousands of tiny holes covering its body constantly opened and closed like hungry mouths. Its arms were long tentacles ending in sharp points of bone in the shape of scythes. The tentacles undulated like serpents. Its legs, too, were no more than four tentacles that alternatively slithered and stepped forward.
Its flesh was the color of peat, a sickly grayish-brown, and the smell that emanated from it was rancid and stagnant, the essence of all boglands and swamps. I nearly gagged as I ran. The putrefying stench seemed to follow me like a shadow.
Ahead of me, X was fumbling in his backpack as he ran, trying to grab his pistol. I knew he had a Glock 21 in that bag, and I had my Sig Sauer in mine. I cursed myself for not keeping it holstered on my body, but I had never had to use it before and hadn’t seriously thought I would need it for this trip. He glanced back at me, his eyes widening in horror.
“It’s right behind you!” he yelled. “Get down!” He dropped his backpack, revealing the sleek, black pistol clenched tightly in his hand. I barely had time to comprehend his words when an immense pressure and numbness radiated through my back. My head snapped backwards as a meaty thud resonated all around me. I went flying forward, feeling as if I had been struck by a car. As I flew through the air, the pain in my back exploded in burning pulses. I felt the deep slice open up from the sharp blade of bone that had slashed me like a knife. I felt trickles of blood pour from the open wound, making my stained shirt cling to my body.
I landed hard on the raised black earth of the trail, a bone-jarring impact that knocked the air out of me. At that same moment, X opened fire, pressing the trigger over and over, emptying the magazine as fast as he could. Something splashed over me, going in my eyes and mouth and nose. I crawled forward, moaning, my head spinning. I wiped my forehead, seeing spatters of green blood squirming with dark, maggot-like creatures covering my arms and face. It clung to my fingers, thick and rancid. I felt stinging sensations as the tiny worms bit me over and over. My ears rang with a high-pitched whine from the gunshots.
X was running towards me now. I continued to crawl towards him, shell-shocked and whimpering, trying to wipe the eldritch blood off my skin. With a muscular arm, he reached down and pulled me up.
“Where’d it go?” I mumbled, stumbling forward on unsteady feet. X put an arm around my shoulders and helped support me.
“It slunk back into the swamp,” he said. “Jesus, you’re bleeding really bad, buddy. We’re going to need to take care of that as soon as we get away from this hellhole.” I felt the deep slices from the creature’s blade-like hands across my back. The fabric of my shirt clung tightly to the skin as fresh blood soaked it.
“This isn’t the trail, X,” I gasped. “We went the wrong way. We need to go back.” He nodded grimly.
“We’re heading back right now. I know it’s the wrong trail now, it definitely is, but it’s dark. The trails back up the mountains are steep and dangerous, and we’ve already been hiking all day. How much longer can we really go?” he asked. In reality, I had a feeling X could go for quite a bit longer. I was the weak link in the chain, and we both knew it.
X took out a small, LED flashlight from his backpack, shining it ahead of us on the dark path. Across the center of the black earth, there was an obstruction, something that hadn’t been there when we passed this way originally.
“Shit! Is that a person?” X said, slowing down. He focused the light on it. As my eyes adjusted, I gave a gasp of horror as I saw a rough sacrificial table looming there, waiting with a ready victim.
Laying on the bare wooden planks in the center of the trail was an elderly man wearing the garb of a hunter. He was gagged, a bloody rag shoved deep into his mouth. I felt a sense of revulsion and terror as I realized his hands and feet were nailed to the planks, as if he were being crucified laying down. His eyes rolled wildly, white and insane, like a horse with a broken leg. When he saw us approaching, he tried to say something through the gag, pulling hard against the nails that bit so viciously into his flesh. Fresh rivers of blood spurted from his wounds.
I had my pistol in my hands. X had taken a fresh magazine out by now, throwing the empty one back in his backpack. Trembling, he went first, his shaking hand moving the flashlight around wildly. Its bright rays bounced off the dead, half-rotted trees that grew out of the boglands, the clouds of mosquitoes and moths that circled us constantly.
“Oh my God... he's like the victim of a serial killer or something,” he whispered, running a trembling hand over his face. “It looks like someone has set that poor guy up to have his heart cut out, like some sort of Aztec ritual.” He glanced worriedly over at me. We had both stopped cold in our tracks, looking around for any sign of danger, but we only saw the old man writhing on his rough table of torture.
“We have to keep going forward,” I whispered. “That thing is behind us. I don’t think it’s dead. I’m not sure it can even die.”
“But what’s ahead of us?” he asked grimly. “That’s the real question, isn’t it?” Far off down the trail, I saw small pinpoints of flickering light. They drew closer. We raised our pistols, waiting for the new arrivals to show themselves.
Dozens of people dressed in black, silky robes holding lamps slowly ambled their way towards us. They had their heads bowed, like monks on a holy pilgrimage. They drew close to the sacrifice. The one in the lead held a long, curving dagger whose blade looked like it was made of some kind of red volcanic rock. Its strange silver handle glittered in his pale, thin hand. At the end, I saw it was sculpted into the shape of a human heart.
“Stop right there!” X screamed, stepping forward. “Don’t come any closer! We are armed, I’m warning you.” The people in the black robes didn’t appear to hear or care in the slightest. They continued slowly following their leader with the strange dagger, almost floating forward in a nonchalant manner. Their leader began chanting in some strange, ancient language. It reminded me of Tibetan or Sanskrit in a way, like the chanting of some Vajrayana monk high up in the Himalayas. But it had a sinister, hissing quality to the words. Something ancient and powerful resonated in every syllable.
I raised the pistol, firing blankly into the dark, cloudless sky above. The smell of gunsmoke and fetid rot hung thick in the air. The leader of the group looked at me with his large, glassy eyes. His face looked sunken and pale, almost like a starving child. He had shaved all of the hair on his head, even his eyebrows. His lips were extremely thin and bloodless in his chalk-white face.
For a long moment, we stood staring at each other, my pistol aimed at his chest. X also had his pistol raised, aimed at one of those standing behind him. But the robed man didn’t speak. He gave me a faint grin.
“Let the old man go,” I commanded, my voice sounding hoarse and weak. The swamp quickly swallowed up my words, until only the buzzing of mosquitoes remained.
“I am sorry, my son, but I cannot do that,” the leader said in a voice as cold as endless space. “If we do not feed Mowdoroth, it will never sleep. The swamps will continue to expand, eating more and more of the surrounding forests and towns, and Mowdoroth, driven insane by hunger, will take far more victims in the process.
“This job has been passed down to us from generation to generation, from big hand to small, for over four centuries. Only twice has Mowdoroth not been fed on the New Moon, and each time, entire settlements full of people were wiped off the face of the Earth as if they had never existed. On one, they just had time to carve the word ‘CROATAN’ before they were taken.
“Mowdoroth looks for the place where the nightmares grow. It breaks open the chest and finds the place where the silent screams start, deep down at the base of the heart. All of the nightmares are planted there, like tiny seeds scattered during childhood. Those that fell on good soil in that abyss produced a great crop, yielding a hundredfold, sixtyfold, or thirtyfold. If you do not allow us to complete our holy mission, then you do it: cut open the man's chest and remove his beating heart. As it beats, squeeze it as hard as you can, and let all the blood drain onto the top of your head. Hold the heart above your head and close your eyes until the god appears and takes it.” The cult leader finished, looking at us with sparkling eyes, as if he had said something profound.
“This shit is just insane drivel,” X whispered in a voice as low as possible. “I say we open fire and save the old man now. Fuck these cultists.” I nodded grimly in agreement.
“You need to all turn around and leave immediately,” X yelled, stepping forward. “I will give you three seconds to turn around and get the hell out of my sight. Three…” At first, the cultists stood as still as statues, simply staring. Finally, the leader sighed and turned away. He shook his head, reminding me of a disappointed parent.
“I tried to warn you,” he said in his thin, quavering voice. “The time has come to give the offering. You must cut out this man’s heart and raise it to Mowdoroth, so he can get the seeds of nightmares freshly sown. The choice is yours now, as you have demanded this power with violence. You can leave this man here to be eaten by Mowdoroth, or free him and, in exchange, guarantee the deaths of hundreds of other people.”
With those last words, the black-robed figures continued down the curve of the trail. Within seconds, they had disappeared behind dead, half-rotted trees that still dotted the edges of the boglands. X and I ran forward toward the struggling old man. X reached into his pocket and pulled out a folding knife. He cut off the old man’s gag, pulling the spit-soaked chunk of filthy cloth out of his mouth. The old man spat and licked his dry lips.
“Get me out of here, please,” he whispered, his eyes rolling wildly. “Those cult members are all batshit insane. And there’s something not right in these swamps. I caught glimpses of something while I was waiting. There’s something in the water…”
“What’s your name, bud?” X said calmingly, looking at the old man’s hands and feet to try to decide how to best get the nails out without causing more damage.
“Winchester,” he said in a coarse voice. It sounded like he hadn’t had a drink of water in days. While X looked at his hands with the LED flashlight, I reached into my pack for the small canteen of filtered water I still had. I started pouring it into Winchester’s mouth. He gulped greedily, his throat working hard to drink down the rest of it.
“I got it!” X said, taking a flat stone he had found on the ground. “I’m going to try to pound these nails out from the bottom.”
“Oh, please, no,” Winchester said, his wrinkled face turning pale. X shook his head.
“We need to get you out of here,” he said. “It’s going to hurt, bud. But we don’t have any tools here. The nails are large, almost like railroad spikes, and once we get the top part, the bottom should slide out easily since it’s a lot narrower.” As he grabbed the rock to begin his work, a bone-chilling wailing started up again from the swamps. It was the scream of Mowdoroth, that abomination with the skin of a wasp’s nest.
“Cover us!” X yelled panickedly as he continued his grisly work. Winchester screamed in pain when X first struck the nail on his right hand. It shot up a fraction of an inch, fresh blood pooling all around it and dripping through the bare planks.
I turned, but the banshee wail seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. The swamp bubbled faster and faster all around us, as if thousands of corpses were coming back to life. I heard Winchester scream again, then the dull thud of another nail hitting the earth.
A face peeked out of the swamp, only twenty feet away. Its eyes were green, the color of a putrefying wound. Its lipless mouth opened wide, showing a spongy black mass of skin with concentric circles of tiny, razor-sharp teeth. It reminded me of the mouth of a lamprey.
I opened fire, shooting wildly at the face, aiming at the body hidden under the dark surface of the swamp. Luminescent drops of green blood exploded from a bullet hole in its upper right shoulder, floating across the surface of the water like radioactive waste.
Its screaming cut off instantly. All I could hear was the pounding of the rock behind me and Winchester’s pained, horrified pleas for mercy.
“Please, you’re hurting me!” he pleaded.
“Shut the fuck up, Winchester!” I whispered. “It’s here with us now.” With considerable effort, he did, only moaning and violently jerking his head now as the waves of pain ripped through him.
“I got it!” X said suddenly. A feeling of elation filled my heart.
“Let’s go then!” I yelled, turning to help the old man up. I heard something massive rise up behind us. It mixed with the sound of dripping water and babbling waves that arose from the disturbance.
Winchester was weak, stumbling up to his feet and nearly falling over immediately. Staggering, he took off down the trail with no shoes, but he immediately gave a curse of pain and tripped. X and I started running, and at that moment, I realized the flaw in our plan. We wouldn’t be able to get Winchester out of the swamp without carrying him, due to the extensive injuries to his feet. And I knew we didn’t have time.
Mowdoroth’s body stood as tall as the trees as it looked down at the three of us with its strange, infected eyes. Its tentacles undulated faster and faster, seeming to whip around its body until they flew out towards us.
“Run!” I screamed. X and I sprinted behind a cluster of dead trees hugging the path. The blade-like hand of Mowdoroth chopped them in a half, raining wood splinters down on our heads.
Winchester continued trying to crawl forward. Mowdoroth slithered behind him. Winchester looked up as a tentacle started coming down in his direction. He gave a short, panicked scream as the blade smashed through his back legs, chopping both of them off at the knees. The ground shook with the force of it. The stumps began spurting seemingly endless amounts of blood. Winchester pleaded and made incomprehensible gurgling sounds as he bled out. Mowdoroth ended Winchester’s cries when it wrapped its tentacle around Winchester’s torso. It slithered up into Winchester’s open mouth.
X and I shot as fast as we could while running forward in the dark, trying to hold a flashlight and a pistol. Most of my shots missed Mowdoroth, but with a sense of satisfaction and pride, I saw a few burst through its enormous body. Streams of radioactive green blood ran down its torso now. As its serpentine legs pumped furiously, it gained speed, coming behind us like a runaway train. I could feel the ground shaking with every thud of its tentacled feet.
A few hundred feet ahead of us, I caught a glimpse of the cultists. They were hurrying away from the area, not running but moving much faster than they had come in. Nearly out of breath already and exhausted from hiking all day, I pointed forward.
“Look!” I screamed. X saw them, his eyes widening. We sprinted in a blind panic, as fast as we could towards the stragglers in the black robes. Without warning, X raised his pistol and fired, aiming at the nearest of them.
The figure in the back of the pack fell forward without making a sound. He continued trying to crawl forward weakly for a few moments before he lost energy and lay still, no more than a bleeding black hump on the dark earth.
X gave a sudden cry of pain next to me as a tentacle came down like a guillotine blade. I heard it whip through the air with a high-pitched whine. A single breath later, I watched in horror as it sliced off his right arm. X looked down at the spurting stump for a long moment, his tanned face turning as pale as bones. He stumbled forward, then, with a hoarse cry, he fell.
Following X’s lead, I raised my gun and started shooting the cultists. They sprinted away in a random panic as bodies fell ahead of us. I jumped over the black lumps on the ground, hearing Mowdoroth shake the world as it gave chase. A long, snake-like tentacle reached down, picking up X’s spurting body and raising it towards Mowdoroth’s leech-like mouth. The massive abomination slowed, picking up the bodies of the dead cultists and crushing them. I heard the bones shatter as the wet gore exploded around Mowdoroth’s many sharp teeth.
I saw the woods again, living trees just a few hundred feet away. The trail of black earth ended abruptly, leading out of the boglands. Cultists sprinted blindly through the forest in every direction, scattering like cockroaches. I had nearly reached the border of the forest when I heard something whizzing past my head. I ducked, but the blur of a grayish tentacle coming down sent a jolt of fear like electricity sizzling through my body.
A moment later, a cold agony covered my left hand. In shock, I looked down, realizing that the blade-like appendage of Mowdoroth had neatly amputated all four of my fingers. If I hadn’t ducked, it would’ve probably gotten my head instead.
Stumbling and screaming, my mind in a blind panic, I staggered through the intersection of the boglands and the forest, falling forward. I knew I was dead. I closed my eyes, waiting. Yet nothing happened.
When I looked back, I saw something strange. Mowdoroth had stopped at the end of the boglands. It tried to push its body forward towards me, but it couldn’t enter the forest. It was as if an invisible barrier stood there.
I lay there for a long time. After a while, I heard Mowdoroth slink back into the fetid waters of the boglands. And then I was alone.
***
I wrapped my hand in bandages as much as I could, trying to stem the bleeding. I felt weak and sick from blood loss, so I lay there until the sun came up. The next day, I was able to slowly make my way out of the forest and back towards the nearest town.
Now I hear stories of people mysteriously going missing in the area. An entire family in a nearby farmhouse only a couple dozen miles away disappeared in the middle of the night without a trace, leaving only smeared trails of blood leading into the forest. No one saw anything, but these six victims were only the first in a long line of strange deaths. Oddly enough, all of the victims lived next to swamps.
And I have the feeling that I was the one responsible.

I had been hiking down the Appalachian Trail for over two weeks without issue on the day when the nightmare began. My friend, X, was by my side the entire time. It was, quite honestly, comforting to have someone who stood nearly six-and-a-half feet tall with me, especially during the long, dark nights when the howling of coyotes drew near. Black bears, too, were a constant presence in these dark mountains. As we got farther from towns and civilization, more ancient predators than human beings took over the land, stalking the night like creeping shadows.
For this trip, we both had bought as few supplies as possible. Included in our packs were MREs, two sleeping bags, some tarps and hammocks, some light clothing, and two pistols with a few boxes of ammo. We didn’t want to be too weighed down that we wouldn’t be able to move fast, after all. We would source water from the streams, waterfalls and lakes along the way and filter it using Lifestraws.
As the spring breeze blew past us, cooling the sweat on my face, I noticed the trail ahead of us weaving its way through thick swampland. The buzzing of flies and mosquitoes increased with every step. The green, fetid waters of the swamp bubbled constantly, as if it were whispering secrets to us.
“Ah, shit,” X said, glancing down the hill with his dark, serious eyes. His tanned skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Another swamp. I hate swamps. You know there’s going to be a million mosquitoes and flies down there.” I pulled out the map, squinting down at it. I ran my finger down the trail, seeing the mountains and valleys we had already passed.
“The trail shouldn’t be going through any swamps,” I said. “They’re supposed to be marked. There’s no ponds or anything around here.” And yet there very clearly was. Either we were in a different spot than I thought we were, or the map was outdated. The trail also grew thinner as we descended. The sharp branches of the bushes stuck out like greedy hands, grabbing at our backpacks and clothes as we pressed forward.
“Well, whatever,” X said gruffly, plowing ahead. Twigs cracked under his massive bulk. The thin branches hanging across the path snapped as he plowed forward. I let him go first, since he was significantly bigger than myself. It was like following in the path of a bull.
“The faster we move, the faster we’ll be through it. We don’t want to camp anywhere around here when it gets dark,” X continued, looking grim. “We’ll be eaten alive by bugs by sunrise. We need to make it to the other side of these boglands before we can stop for the night.”
“Yeah, and I could use some more water,” I said, shaking my mostly empty canteen. “I wouldn’t drink this shit no matter what we did to it. It probably has brain-eating parasites crawling in it.” I checked my watch, realizing that dusk was only a half hour away. We would have to move fast indeed, especially as we didn’t know the size of the swamp. I was not enthusiastic about hiking in the dark with the many steep trails and sharp rocks that covered the surrounding land. A single misstep could lead to a very long, bone-shattering fall.
To my increasing dismay, I realized that the trail we were on no longer had the characteristic white markings of the Appalachian Trail. I kept checking the trees for the past fifteen minutes, and I definitely hadn’t seen a single one. I couldn’t remember the last time we had passed one, but I had a creeping suspicion it had been at least a couple hours ago.
“I think we have a problem, man,” I whispered. “I don’t know how it possibly could have happened, but I think we’re on the wrong trail.”
“There’s not supposed to be any other trails around here,” X argued. “Check the map.”
“Then where’s the white blazes? There’s not supposed to be any boglands around here, either, yet we’re walking through the middle of one,” I said. He shook his head.
“Listen, Ben, there’s not going to be markers on the entire Appalachian Trail,” he said. “Just trust me. We’re on the right path. Sometimes forests change. Swamps take over spots where forests used to lay. Hell, the Sahara Desert has been expanding for thousands of years, just eating the forests and plains all around it. There used to be lions and savannah in Morocco, and now it’s all dead and dry.”
I felt doubtful, but I continued forwards, following closely behind X. Neither one of us had ever done the full Appalachian Trail, after all. I hoped he was right. I was not enthusiastic about backtracking two or three hours if he wasn’t.
I thought back closely on our travels during the last few hours, wondering where we could have gone wrong. The trail had been rather overgrown and rocky on the peak of the last mountain. There had been a beautiful view spanning hundreds of miles, looking far off into state forests and winding roads. I remembered seeing the white marker near the top, but after we had started descending, it disappeared. That must have been where we went wrong, if we did, indeed, go off-course. But I couldn’t be sure, and I didn’t tell X about my suspicions.
We finished descending a steep, rocky trail into a valley where the boglands really started. The trees ended in a massive semi-circle around the open swamp. Thick peat covered the entire surface of it like rotted, grayish-brown skin. I saw water snakes quietly disappearing into the stagnant water, leaving behind slowly expanding ripples.
“This is pretty cool,” I said, stopping for a moment at the bottom of the trail to admire the boglands. Our trail continued directly through the center of it, no more than a raised patch of black earth surrounded by green swampy water. I could hear the many insects chirping and flying before we even took a step forward. Though the spring air felt warm and I was covered in sweat, I still reached into my bag, taking out a windbreaker that would cover up my arms and neck to help with the bugs. X did the same.
“Let’s move fast,” he said, giving me a knowing look. He was a much faster hiker than myself. He seemed like a machine sometimes, tireless and single-minded. I had seen him hike over twenty miles in a single day without looking too bent out of shape. I gave him a faint half-smile, picking up my pace.
“You know what they used to say about the boglands?” I asked X. He shook his head.
“I don’t read books,” he said. “If I have time to sit down and read, then it means I have time to go out and do something actually fun. But I’m sure you know all about it.” I gave a short bark of laughter at his off-handed insult. It sounded far too loud echoing back to us through the creepy swamp. The last rays of sunlight were disappearing behind the mountains now. Soon, we would be plunged into darkness.
“Well, in ancient times, people thought the boglands a place where the walls of reality were thin, where the gods would come through. They used to bring their victims out to swamps during rituals, then they would slice their throats or strangle them and dump their bodies into the bogs as an offering to the gods. They also said that strange, shape-shifting creatures would appear, sometimes to deceive travelers, other times to help them,” I said. “But as for human sacrifices, the bogs preserve bodies like nothing else, except maybe tar pits. Archaeologists keep finding victims with slashed throats or shattered skulls buried underneath the peat.”
X was silent for a long moment as we continued walking along the raised patch of earth that formed the trail. We got farther and farther from the forests, until the swamp seemed like a fetid ocean, spanning out to the horizon in every direction.
“Do you think they used to do that kind of stuff around here?” X asked.
“Used to?” I exclaimed, laughing. “I’m sure some psychopaths still do. This is a good place to dump a body, after all. Who the hell wants to trek through the muck and the snakes and mosquitoes out here looking for corpses?”
“The FBI and the cops will do it,” he said, “if they think there’s something to find.” I was about to respond when an ear-splitting shriek echoed out all around us. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from at first. X’s tan skin seemed to go pale as he spun, glancing in every direction.
“What the fuck is that?!” he screamed over the deafening wailing. I didn’t believe in cryptids, but my anxious mind immediately offered up an image of a banshee, a woman with chalk-white skin and black eyes whose shrieking jaw unhinged like a snake’s.
“I’m turning around!” I yelled, pointing back for emphasis. “Dude, fuck this! We need to get out of this swamp!” But X was no longer listening. He was looking past me, his mouth open and his eyes wild. He started backpedaling and nearly fell into the swamp. Windmilling his arms crazily, he turned and sprinted away without a word.
I was afraid to look back. The screaming was getting louder by the second, shaking the air all around me in deafening, crashing waves of sound. I felt like my head would explode if it got any worse. Instinctively, I took off after X, but I glanced back for a single moment before I did. Something loomed there from a nightmare, standing as tall as the trees. It moved through the swamp like a snake, its body slithering through the stagnant green waters towards us. When it met my eyes, the screaming stopped. The abrupt silence seemed deafening. I could hear the fervent pounding of my heart in my ears.
The creature’s skin looked honeycombed and rough, almost like a wasp’s nest. The thousands of tiny holes covering its body constantly opened and closed like hungry mouths. Its arms were long tentacles ending in sharp points of bone in the shape of scythes. The tentacles undulated like serpents. Its legs, too, were no more than four tentacles that alternatively slithered and stepped forward.
Its flesh was the color of peat, a sickly grayish-brown, and the smell that emanated from it was rancid and stagnant, the essence of all boglands and swamps. I nearly gagged as I ran. The putrefying stench seemed to follow me like a shadow.
Ahead of me, X was fumbling in his backpack as he ran, trying to grab his pistol. I knew he had a Glock 21 in that bag, and I had my Sig Sauer in mine. I cursed myself for not keeping it holstered on my body, but I had never had to use it before and hadn’t seriously thought I would need it for this trip. He glanced back at me, his eyes widening in horror.
“It’s right behind you!” he yelled. “Get down!” He dropped his backpack, revealing the sleek, black pistol clenched tightly in his hand. I barely had time to comprehend his words when an immense pressure and numbness radiated through my back. My head snapped backwards as a meaty thud resonated all around me. I went flying forward, feeling as if I had been struck by a car. As I flew through the air, the pain in my back exploded in burning pulses. I felt the deep slice open up from the sharp blade of bone that had slashed me like a knife. I felt trickles of blood pour from the open wound, making my stained shirt cling to my body.
I landed hard on the raised black earth of the trail, a bone-jarring impact that knocked the air out of me. At that same moment, X opened fire, pressing the trigger over and over, emptying the magazine as fast as he could. Something splashed over me, going in my eyes and mouth and nose. I crawled forward, moaning, my head spinning. I wiped my forehead, seeing spatters of green blood squirming with dark, maggot-like creatures covering my arms and face. It clung to my fingers, thick and rancid. I felt stinging sensations as the tiny worms bit me over and over. My ears rang with a high-pitched whine from the gunshots.
X was running towards me now. I continued to crawl towards him, shell-shocked and whimpering, trying to wipe the eldritch blood off my skin. With a muscular arm, he reached down and pulled me up.
“Where’d it go?” I mumbled, stumbling forward on unsteady feet. X put an arm around my shoulders and helped support me.
“It slunk back into the swamp,” he said. “Jesus, you’re bleeding really bad, buddy. We’re going to need to take care of that as soon as we get away from this hellhole.” I felt the deep slices from the creature’s blade-like hands across my back. The fabric of my shirt clung tightly to the skin as fresh blood soaked it.
“This isn’t the trail, X,” I gasped. “We went the wrong way. We need to go back.” He nodded grimly.
“We’re heading back right now. I know it’s the wrong trail now, it definitely is, but it’s dark. The trails back up the mountains are steep and dangerous, and we’ve already been hiking all day. How much longer can we really go?” he asked. In reality, I had a feeling X could go for quite a bit longer. I was the weak link in the chain, and we both knew it.
X took out a small, LED flashlight from his backpack, shining it ahead of us on the dark path. Across the center of the black earth, there was an obstruction, something that hadn’t been there when we passed this way originally.
“Shit! Is that a person?” X said, slowing down. He focused the light on it. As my eyes adjusted, I gave a gasp of horror as I saw a rough sacrificial table looming there, waiting with a ready victim.
Laying on the bare wooden planks in the center of the trail was an elderly man wearing the garb of a hunter. He was gagged, a bloody rag shoved deep into his mouth. I felt a sense of revulsion and terror as I realized his hands and feet were nailed to the planks, as if he were being crucified laying down. His eyes rolled wildly, white and insane, like a horse with a broken leg. When he saw us approaching, he tried to say something through the gag, pulling hard against the nails that bit so viciously into his flesh. Fresh rivers of blood spurted from his wounds.
I had my pistol in my hands. X had taken a fresh magazine out by now, throwing the empty one back in his backpack. Trembling, he went first, his shaking hand moving the flashlight around wildly. Its bright rays bounced off the dead, half-rotted trees that grew out of the boglands, the clouds of mosquitoes and moths that circled us constantly.
“Oh my God... he's like the victim of a serial killer or something,” he whispered, running a trembling hand over his face. “It looks like someone has set that poor guy up to have his heart cut out, like some sort of Aztec ritual.” He glanced worriedly over at me. We had both stopped cold in our tracks, looking around for any sign of danger, but we only saw the old man writhing on his rough table of torture.
“We have to keep going forward,” I whispered. “That thing is behind us. I don’t think it’s dead. I’m not sure it can even die.”
“But what’s ahead of us?” he asked grimly. “That’s the real question, isn’t it?” Far off down the trail, I saw small pinpoints of flickering light. They drew closer. We raised our pistols, waiting for the new arrivals to show themselves.
Dozens of people dressed in black, silky robes holding lamps slowly ambled their way towards us. They had their heads bowed, like monks on a holy pilgrimage. They drew close to the sacrifice. The one in the lead held a long, curving dagger whose blade looked like it was made of some kind of red volcanic rock. Its strange silver handle glittered in his pale, thin hand. At the end, I saw it was sculpted into the shape of a human heart.
“Stop right there!” X screamed, stepping forward. “Don’t come any closer! We are armed, I’m warning you.” The people in the black robes didn’t appear to hear or care in the slightest. They continued slowly following their leader with the strange dagger, almost floating forward in a nonchalant manner. Their leader began chanting in some strange, ancient language. It reminded me of Tibetan or Sanskrit in a way, like the chanting of some Vajrayana monk high up in the Himalayas. But it had a sinister, hissing quality to the words. Something ancient and powerful resonated in every syllable.
I raised the pistol, firing blankly into the dark, cloudless sky above. The smell of gunsmoke and fetid rot hung thick in the air. The leader of the group looked at me with his large, glassy eyes. His face looked sunken and pale, almost like a starving child. He had shaved all of the hair on his head, even his eyebrows. His lips were extremely thin and bloodless in his chalk-white face.
For a long moment, we stood staring at each other, my pistol aimed at his chest. X also had his pistol raised, aimed at one of those standing behind him. But the robed man didn’t speak. He gave me a faint grin.
“Let the old man go,” I commanded, my voice sounding hoarse and weak. The swamp quickly swallowed up my words, until only the buzzing of mosquitoes remained.
“I am sorry, my son, but I cannot do that,” the leader said in a voice as cold as endless space. “If we do not feed Mowdoroth, it will never sleep. The swamps will continue to expand, eating more and more of the surrounding forests and towns, and Mowdoroth, driven insane by hunger, will take far more victims in the process.
“This job has been passed down to us from generation to generation, from big hand to small, for over four centuries. Only twice has Mowdoroth not been fed on the New Moon, and each time, entire settlements full of people were wiped off the face of the Earth as if they had never existed. On one, they just had time to carve the word ‘CROATAN’ before they were taken.
“Mowdoroth looks for the place where the nightmares grow. It breaks open the chest and finds the place where the silent screams start, deep down at the base of the heart. All of the nightmares are planted there, like tiny seeds scattered during childhood. Those that fell on good soil in that abyss produced a great crop, yielding a hundredfold, sixtyfold, or thirtyfold. If you do not allow us to complete our holy mission, then you do it: cut open the man's chest and remove his beating heart. As it beats, squeeze it as hard as you can, and let all the blood drain onto the top of your head. Hold the heart above your head and close your eyes until the god appears and takes it.” The cult leader finished, looking at us with sparkling eyes, as if he had said something profound.
“This shit is just insane drivel,” X whispered in a voice as low as possible. “I say we open fire and save the old man now. Fuck these cultists.” I nodded grimly in agreement.
“You need to all turn around and leave immediately,” X yelled, stepping forward. “I will give you three seconds to turn around and get the hell out of my sight. Three…” At first, the cultists stood as still as statues, simply staring. Finally, the leader sighed and turned away. He shook his head, reminding me of a disappointed parent.
“I tried to warn you,” he said in his thin, quavering voice. “The time has come to give the offering. You must cut out this man’s heart and raise it to Mowdoroth, so he can get the seeds of nightmares freshly sown. The choice is yours now, as you have demanded this power with violence. You can leave this man here to be eaten by Mowdoroth, or free him and, in exchange, guarantee the deaths of hundreds of other people.”
With those last words, the black-robed figures continued down the curve of the trail. Within seconds, they had disappeared behind dead, half-rotted trees that still dotted the edges of the boglands. X and I ran forward toward the struggling old man. X reached into his pocket and pulled out a folding knife. He cut off the old man’s gag, pulling the spit-soaked chunk of filthy cloth out of his mouth. The old man spat and licked his dry lips.
“Get me out of here, please,” he whispered, his eyes rolling wildly. “Those cult members are all batshit insane. And there’s something not right in these swamps. I caught glimpses of something while I was waiting. There’s something in the water…”
“What’s your name, bud?” X said calmingly, looking at the old man’s hands and feet to try to decide how to best get the nails out without causing more damage.
“Winchester,” he said in a coarse voice. It sounded like he hadn’t had a drink of water in days. While X looked at his hands with the LED flashlight, I reached into my pack for the small canteen of filtered water I still had. I started pouring it into Winchester’s mouth. He gulped greedily, his throat working hard to drink down the rest of it.
“I got it!” X said, taking a flat stone he had found on the ground. “I’m going to try to pound these nails out from the bottom.”
“Oh, please, no,” Winchester said, his wrinkled face turning pale. X shook his head.
“We need to get you out of here,” he said. “It’s going to hurt, bud. But we don’t have any tools here. The nails are large, almost like railroad spikes, and once we get the top part, the bottom should slide out easily since it’s a lot narrower.” As he grabbed the rock to begin his work, a bone-chilling wailing started up again from the swamps. It was the scream of Mowdoroth, that abomination with the skin of a wasp’s nest.
“Cover us!” X yelled panickedly as he continued his grisly work. Winchester screamed in pain when X first struck the nail on his right hand. It shot up a fraction of an inch, fresh blood pooling all around it and dripping through the bare planks.
I turned, but the banshee wail seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. The swamp bubbled faster and faster all around us, as if thousands of corpses were coming back to life. I heard Winchester scream again, then the dull thud of another nail hitting the earth.
A face peeked out of the swamp, only twenty feet away. Its eyes were green, the color of a putrefying wound. Its lipless mouth opened wide, showing a spongy black mass of skin with concentric circles of tiny, razor-sharp teeth. It reminded me of the mouth of a lamprey.
I opened fire, shooting wildly at the face, aiming at the body hidden under the dark surface of the swamp. Luminescent drops of green blood exploded from a bullet hole in its upper right shoulder, floating across the surface of the water like radioactive waste.
Its screaming cut off instantly. All I could hear was the pounding of the rock behind me and Winchester’s pained, horrified pleas for mercy.
“Please, you’re hurting me!” he pleaded.
“Shut the fuck up, Winchester!” I whispered. “It’s here with us now.” With considerable effort, he did, only moaning and violently jerking his head now as the waves of pain ripped through him.
“I got it!” X said suddenly. A feeling of elation filled my heart.
“Let’s go then!” I yelled, turning to help the old man up. I heard something massive rise up behind us. It mixed with the sound of dripping water and babbling waves that arose from the disturbance.
Winchester was weak, stumbling up to his feet and nearly falling over immediately. Staggering, he took off down the trail with no shoes, but he immediately gave a curse of pain and tripped. X and I started running, and at that moment, I realized the flaw in our plan. We wouldn’t be able to get Winchester out of the swamp without carrying him, due to the extensive injuries to his feet. And I knew we didn’t have time.
Mowdoroth’s body stood as tall as the trees as it looked down at the three of us with its strange, infected eyes. Its tentacles undulated faster and faster, seeming to whip around its body until they flew out towards us.
“Run!” I screamed. X and I sprinted behind a cluster of dead trees hugging the path. The blade-like hand of Mowdoroth chopped them in a half, raining wood splinters down on our heads.
Winchester continued trying to crawl forward. Mowdoroth slithered behind him. Winchester looked up as a tentacle started coming down in his direction. He gave a short, panicked scream as the blade smashed through his back legs, chopping both of them off at the knees. The ground shook with the force of it. The stumps began spurting seemingly endless amounts of blood. Winchester pleaded and made incomprehensible gurgling sounds as he bled out. Mowdoroth ended Winchester’s cries when it wrapped its tentacle around Winchester’s torso. It slithered up into Winchester’s open mouth.
X and I shot as fast as we could while running forward in the dark, trying to hold a flashlight and a pistol. Most of my shots missed Mowdoroth, but with a sense of satisfaction and pride, I saw a few burst through its enormous body. Streams of radioactive green blood ran down its torso now. As its serpentine legs pumped furiously, it gained speed, coming behind us like a runaway train. I could feel the ground shaking with every thud of its tentacled feet.
A few hundred feet ahead of us, I caught a glimpse of the cultists. They were hurrying away from the area, not running but moving much faster than they had come in. Nearly out of breath already and exhausted from hiking all day, I pointed forward.
“Look!” I screamed. X saw them, his eyes widening. We sprinted in a blind panic, as fast as we could towards the stragglers in the black robes. Without warning, X raised his pistol and fired, aiming at the nearest of them.
The figure in the back of the pack fell forward without making a sound. He continued trying to crawl forward weakly for a few moments before he lost energy and lay still, no more than a bleeding black hump on the dark earth.
X gave a sudden cry of pain next to me as a tentacle came down like a guillotine blade. I heard it whip through the air with a high-pitched whine. A single breath later, I watched in horror as it sliced off his right arm. X looked down at the spurting stump for a long moment, his tanned face turning as pale as bones. He stumbled forward, then, with a hoarse cry, he fell.
Following X’s lead, I raised my gun and started shooting the cultists. They sprinted away in a random panic as bodies fell ahead of us. I jumped over the black lumps on the ground, hearing Mowdoroth shake the world as it gave chase. A long, snake-like tentacle reached down, picking up X’s spurting body and raising it towards Mowdoroth’s leech-like mouth. The massive abomination slowed, picking up the bodies of the dead cultists and crushing them. I heard the bones shatter as the wet gore exploded around Mowdoroth’s many sharp teeth.
I saw the woods again, living trees just a few hundred feet away. The trail of black earth ended abruptly, leading out of the boglands. Cultists sprinted blindly through the forest in every direction, scattering like cockroaches. I had nearly reached the border of the forest when I heard something whizzing past my head. I ducked, but the blur of a grayish tentacle coming down sent a jolt of fear like electricity sizzling through my body.
A moment later, a cold agony covered my left hand. In shock, I looked down, realizing that the blade-like appendage of Mowdoroth had neatly amputated all four of my fingers. If I hadn’t ducked, it would’ve probably gotten my head instead.
Stumbling and screaming, my mind in a blind panic, I staggered through the intersection of the boglands and the forest, falling forward. I knew I was dead. I closed my eyes, waiting. Yet nothing happened.
When I looked back, I saw something strange. Mowdoroth had stopped at the end of the boglands. It tried to push its body forward towards me, but it couldn’t enter the forest. It was as if an invisible barrier stood there.
I lay there for a long time. After a while, I heard Mowdoroth slink back into the fetid waters of the boglands. And then I was alone.
***
I wrapped my hand in bandages as much as I could, trying to stem the bleeding. I felt weak and sick from blood loss, so I lay there until the sun came up. The next day, I was able to slowly make my way out of the forest and back towards the nearest town.
Now I hear stories of people mysteriously going missing in the area. An entire family in a nearby farmhouse only a couple dozen miles away disappeared in the middle of the night without a trace, leaving only smeared trails of blood leading into the forest. No one saw anything, but these six victims were only the first in a long line of strange deaths. Oddly enough, all of the victims lived next to swamps.
And I have the feeling that I was the one responsible.

I had been hiking down the Appalachian Trail for over two weeks without issue on the day when the nightmare began. My friend, X, was by my side the entire time. It was, quite honestly, comforting to have someone who stood nearly six-and-a-half feet tall with me, especially during the long, dark nights when the howling of coyotes drew near. Black bears, too, were a constant presence in these dark mountains. As we got farther from towns and civilization, more ancient predators than human beings took over the land, stalking the night like creeping shadows.
For this trip, we both had bought as few supplies as possible. Included in our packs were MREs, two sleeping bags, some tarps and hammocks, some light clothing, and two pistols with a few boxes of ammo. We didn’t want to be too weighed down that we wouldn’t be able to move fast, after all. We would source water from the streams, waterfalls and lakes along the way and filter it using Lifestraws.
As the spring breeze blew past us, cooling the sweat on my face, I noticed the trail ahead of us weaving its way through thick swampland. The buzzing of flies and mosquitoes increased with every step. The green, fetid waters of the swamp bubbled constantly, as if it were whispering secrets to us.
“Ah, shit,” X said, glancing down the hill with his dark, serious eyes. His tanned skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Another swamp. I hate swamps. You know there’s going to be a million mosquitoes and flies down there.” I pulled out the map, squinting down at it. I ran my finger down the trail, seeing the mountains and valleys we had already passed.
“The trail shouldn’t be going through any swamps,” I said. “They’re supposed to be marked. There’s no ponds or anything around here.” And yet there very clearly was. Either we were in a different spot than I thought we were, or the map was outdated. The trail also grew thinner as we descended. The sharp branches of the bushes stuck out like greedy hands, grabbing at our backpacks and clothes as we pressed forward.
“Well, whatever,” X said gruffly, plowing ahead. Twigs cracked under his massive bulk. The thin branches hanging across the path snapped as he plowed forward. I let him go first, since he was significantly bigger than myself. It was like following in the path of a bull.
“The faster we move, the faster we’ll be through it. We don’t want to camp anywhere around here when it gets dark,” X continued, looking grim. “We’ll be eaten alive by bugs by sunrise. We need to make it to the other side of these boglands before we can stop for the night.”
“Yeah, and I could use some more water,” I said, shaking my mostly empty canteen. “I wouldn’t drink this shit no matter what we did to it. It probably has brain-eating parasites crawling in it.” I checked my watch, realizing that dusk was only a half hour away. We would have to move fast indeed, especially as we didn’t know the size of the swamp. I was not enthusiastic about hiking in the dark with the many steep trails and sharp rocks that covered the surrounding land. A single misstep could lead to a very long, bone-shattering fall.
To my increasing dismay, I realized that the trail we were on no longer had the characteristic white markings of the Appalachian Trail. I kept checking the trees for the past fifteen minutes, and I definitely hadn’t seen a single one. I couldn’t remember the last time we had passed one, but I had a creeping suspicion it had been at least a couple hours ago.
“I think we have a problem, man,” I whispered. “I don’t know how it possibly could have happened, but I think we’re on the wrong trail.”
“There’s not supposed to be any other trails around here,” X argued. “Check the map.”
“Then where’s the white blazes? There’s not supposed to be any boglands around here, either, yet we’re walking through the middle of one,” I said. He shook his head.
“Listen, Ben, there’s not going to be markers on the entire Appalachian Trail,” he said. “Just trust me. We’re on the right path. Sometimes forests change. Swamps take over spots where forests used to lay. Hell, the Sahara Desert has been expanding for thousands of years, just eating the forests and plains all around it. There used to be lions and savannah in Morocco, and now it’s all dead and dry.”
I felt doubtful, but I continued forwards, following closely behind X. Neither one of us had ever done the full Appalachian Trail, after all. I hoped he was right. I was not enthusiastic about backtracking two or three hours if he wasn’t.
I thought back closely on our travels during the last few hours, wondering where we could have gone wrong. The trail had been rather overgrown and rocky on the peak of the last mountain. There had been a beautiful view spanning hundreds of miles, looking far off into state forests and winding roads. I remembered seeing the white marker near the top, but after we had started descending, it disappeared. That must have been where we went wrong, if we did, indeed, go off-course. But I couldn’t be sure, and I didn’t tell X about my suspicions.
We finished descending a steep, rocky trail into a valley where the boglands really started. The trees ended in a massive semi-circle around the open swamp. Thick peat covered the entire surface of it like rotted, grayish-brown skin. I saw water snakes quietly disappearing into the stagnant water, leaving behind slowly expanding ripples.
“This is pretty cool,” I said, stopping for a moment at the bottom of the trail to admire the boglands. Our trail continued directly through the center of it, no more than a raised patch of black earth surrounded by green swampy water. I could hear the many insects chirping and flying before we even took a step forward. Though the spring air felt warm and I was covered in sweat, I still reached into my bag, taking out a windbreaker that would cover up my arms and neck to help with the bugs. X did the same.
“Let’s move fast,” he said, giving me a knowing look. He was a much faster hiker than myself. He seemed like a machine sometimes, tireless and single-minded. I had seen him hike over twenty miles in a single day without looking too bent out of shape. I gave him a faint half-smile, picking up my pace.
“You know what they used to say about the boglands?” I asked X. He shook his head.
“I don’t read books,” he said. “If I have time to sit down and read, then it means I have time to go out and do something actually fun. But I’m sure you know all about it.” I gave a short bark of laughter at his off-handed insult. It sounded far too loud echoing back to us through the creepy swamp. The last rays of sunlight were disappearing behind the mountains now. Soon, we would be plunged into darkness.
“Well, in ancient times, people thought the boglands a place where the walls of reality were thin, where the gods would come through. They used to bring their victims out to swamps during rituals, then they would slice their throats or strangle them and dump their bodies into the bogs as an offering to the gods. They also said that strange, shape-shifting creatures would appear, sometimes to deceive travelers, other times to help them,” I said. “But as for human sacrifices, the bogs preserve bodies like nothing else, except maybe tar pits. Archaeologists keep finding victims with slashed throats or shattered skulls buried underneath the peat.”
X was silent for a long moment as we continued walking along the raised patch of earth that formed the trail. We got farther and farther from the forests, until the swamp seemed like a fetid ocean, spanning out to the horizon in every direction.
“Do you think they used to do that kind of stuff around here?” X asked.
“Used to?” I exclaimed, laughing. “I’m sure some psychopaths still do. This is a good place to dump a body, after all. Who the hell wants to trek through the muck and the snakes and mosquitoes out here looking for corpses?”
“The FBI and the cops will do it,” he said, “if they think there’s something to find.” I was about to respond when an ear-splitting shriek echoed out all around us. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from at first. X’s tan skin seemed to go pale as he spun, glancing in every direction.
“What the fuck is that?!” he screamed over the deafening wailing. I didn’t believe in cryptids, but my anxious mind immediately offered up an image of a banshee, a woman with chalk-white skin and black eyes whose shrieking jaw unhinged like a snake’s.
“I’m turning around!” I yelled, pointing back for emphasis. “Dude, fuck this! We need to get out of this swamp!” But X was no longer listening. He was looking past me, his mouth open and his eyes wild. He started backpedaling and nearly fell into the swamp. Windmilling his arms crazily, he turned and sprinted away without a word.
I was afraid to look back. The screaming was getting louder by the second, shaking the air all around me in deafening, crashing waves of sound. I felt like my head would explode if it got any worse. Instinctively, I took off after X, but I glanced back for a single moment before I did. Something loomed there from a nightmare, standing as tall as the trees. It moved through the swamp like a snake, its body slithering through the stagnant green waters towards us. When it met my eyes, the screaming stopped. The abrupt silence seemed deafening. I could hear the fervent pounding of my heart in my ears.
The creature’s skin looked honeycombed and rough, almost like a wasp’s nest. The thousands of tiny holes covering its body constantly opened and closed like hungry mouths. Its arms were long tentacles ending in sharp points of bone in the shape of scythes. The tentacles undulated like serpents. Its legs, too, were no more than four tentacles that alternatively slithered and stepped forward.
Its flesh was the color of peat, a sickly grayish-brown, and the smell that emanated from it was rancid and stagnant, the essence of all boglands and swamps. I nearly gagged as I ran. The putrefying stench seemed to follow me like a shadow.
Ahead of me, X was fumbling in his backpack as he ran, trying to grab his pistol. I knew he had a Glock 21 in that bag, and I had my Sig Sauer in mine. I cursed myself for not keeping it holstered on my body, but I had never had to use it before and hadn’t seriously thought I would need it for this trip. He glanced back at me, his eyes widening in horror.
“It’s right behind you!” he yelled. “Get down!” He dropped his backpack, revealing the sleek, black pistol clenched tightly in his hand. I barely had time to comprehend his words when an immense pressure and numbness radiated through my back. My head snapped backwards as a meaty thud resonated all around me. I went flying forward, feeling as if I had been struck by a car. As I flew through the air, the pain in my back exploded in burning pulses. I felt the deep slice open up from the sharp blade of bone that had slashed me like a knife. I felt trickles of blood pour from the open wound, making my stained shirt cling to my body.
I landed hard on the raised black earth of the trail, a bone-jarring impact that knocked the air out of me. At that same moment, X opened fire, pressing the trigger over and over, emptying the magazine as fast as he could. Something splashed over me, going in my eyes and mouth and nose. I crawled forward, moaning, my head spinning. I wiped my forehead, seeing spatters of green blood squirming with dark, maggot-like creatures covering my arms and face. It clung to my fingers, thick and rancid. I felt stinging sensations as the tiny worms bit me over and over. My ears rang with a high-pitched whine from the gunshots.
X was running towards me now. I continued to crawl towards him, shell-shocked and whimpering, trying to wipe the eldritch blood off my skin. With a muscular arm, he reached down and pulled me up.
“Where’d it go?” I mumbled, stumbling forward on unsteady feet. X put an arm around my shoulders and helped support me.
“It slunk back into the swamp,” he said. “Jesus, you’re bleeding really bad, buddy. We’re going to need to take care of that as soon as we get away from this hellhole.” I felt the deep slices from the creature’s blade-like hands across my back. The fabric of my shirt clung tightly to the skin as fresh blood soaked it.
“This isn’t the trail, X,” I gasped. “We went the wrong way. We need to go back.” He nodded grimly.
“We’re heading back right now. I know it’s the wrong trail now, it definitely is, but it’s dark. The trails back up the mountains are steep and dangerous, and we’ve already been hiking all day. How much longer can we really go?” he asked. In reality, I had a feeling X could go for quite a bit longer. I was the weak link in the chain, and we both knew it.
X took out a small, LED flashlight from his backpack, shining it ahead of us on the dark path. Across the center of the black earth, there was an obstruction, something that hadn’t been there when we passed this way originally.
“Shit! Is that a person?” X said, slowing down. He focused the light on it. As my eyes adjusted, I gave a gasp of horror as I saw a rough sacrificial table looming there, waiting with a ready victim.
Laying on the bare wooden planks in the center of the trail was an elderly man wearing the garb of a hunter. He was gagged, a bloody rag shoved deep into his mouth. I felt a sense of revulsion and terror as I realized his hands and feet were nailed to the planks, as if he were being crucified laying down. His eyes rolled wildly, white and insane, like a horse with a broken leg. When he saw us approaching, he tried to say something through the gag, pulling hard against the nails that bit so viciously into his flesh. Fresh rivers of blood spurted from his wounds.
I had my pistol in my hands. X had taken a fresh magazine out by now, throwing the empty one back in his backpack. Trembling, he went first, his shaking hand moving the flashlight around wildly. Its bright rays bounced off the dead, half-rotted trees that grew out of the boglands, the clouds of mosquitoes and moths that circled us constantly.
“Oh my God... he's like the victim of a serial killer or something,” he whispered, running a trembling hand over his face. “It looks like someone has set that poor guy up to have his heart cut out, like some sort of Aztec ritual.” He glanced worriedly over at me. We had both stopped cold in our tracks, looking around for any sign of danger, but we only saw the old man writhing on his rough table of torture.
“We have to keep going forward,” I whispered. “That thing is behind us. I don’t think it’s dead. I’m not sure it can even die.”
“But what’s ahead of us?” he asked grimly. “That’s the real question, isn’t it?” Far off down the trail, I saw small pinpoints of flickering light. They drew closer. We raised our pistols, waiting for the new arrivals to show themselves.
Dozens of people dressed in black, silky robes holding lamps slowly ambled their way towards us. They had their heads bowed, like monks on a holy pilgrimage. They drew close to the sacrifice. The one in the lead held a long, curving dagger whose blade looked like it was made of some kind of red volcanic rock. Its strange silver handle glittered in his pale, thin hand. At the end, I saw it was sculpted into the shape of a human heart.
“Stop right there!” X screamed, stepping forward. “Don’t come any closer! We are armed, I’m warning you.” The people in the black robes didn’t appear to hear or care in the slightest. They continued slowly following their leader with the strange dagger, almost floating forward in a nonchalant manner. Their leader began chanting in some strange, ancient language. It reminded me of Tibetan or Sanskrit in a way, like the chanting of some Vajrayana monk high up in the Himalayas. But it had a sinister, hissing quality to the words. Something ancient and powerful resonated in every syllable.
I raised the pistol, firing blankly into the dark, cloudless sky above. The smell of gunsmoke and fetid rot hung thick in the air. The leader of the group looked at me with his large, glassy eyes. His face looked sunken and pale, almost like a starving child. He had shaved all of the hair on his head, even his eyebrows. His lips were extremely thin and bloodless in his chalk-white face.
For a long moment, we stood staring at each other, my pistol aimed at his chest. X also had his pistol raised, aimed at one of those standing behind him. But the robed man didn’t speak. He gave me a faint grin.
“Let the old man go,” I commanded, my voice sounding hoarse and weak. The swamp quickly swallowed up my words, until only the buzzing of mosquitoes remained.
“I am sorry, my son, but I cannot do that,” the leader said in a voice as cold as endless space. “If we do not feed Mowdoroth, it will never sleep. The swamps will continue to expand, eating more and more of the surrounding forests and towns, and Mowdoroth, driven insane by hunger, will take far more victims in the process.
“This job has been passed down to us from generation to generation, from big hand to small, for over four centuries. Only twice has Mowdoroth not been fed on the New Moon, and each time, entire settlements full of people were wiped off the face of the Earth as if they had never existed. On one, they just had time to carve the word ‘CROATAN’ before they were taken.
“Mowdoroth looks for the place where the nightmares grow. It breaks open the chest and finds the place where the silent screams start, deep down at the base of the heart. All of the nightmares are planted there, like tiny seeds scattered during childhood. Those that fell on good soil in that abyss produced a great crop, yielding a hundredfold, sixtyfold, or thirtyfold. If you do not allow us to complete our holy mission, then you do it: cut open the man's chest and remove his beating heart. As it beats, squeeze it as hard as you can, and let all the blood drain onto the top of your head. Hold the heart above your head and close your eyes until the god appears and takes it.” The cult leader finished, looking at us with sparkling eyes, as if he had said something profound.
“This shit is just insane drivel,” X whispered in a voice as low as possible. “I say we open fire and save the old man now. Fuck these cultists.” I nodded grimly in agreement.
“You need to all turn around and leave immediately,” X yelled, stepping forward. “I will give you three seconds to turn around and get the hell out of my sight. Three…” At first, the cultists stood as still as statues, simply staring. Finally, the leader sighed and turned away. He shook his head, reminding me of a disappointed parent.
“I tried to warn you,” he said in his thin, quavering voice. “The time has come to give the offering. You must cut out this man’s heart and raise it to Mowdoroth, so he can get the seeds of nightmares freshly sown. The choice is yours now, as you have demanded this power with violence. You can leave this man here to be eaten by Mowdoroth, or free him and, in exchange, guarantee the deaths of hundreds of other people.”
With those last words, the black-robed figures continued down the curve of the trail. Within seconds, they had disappeared behind dead, half-rotted trees that still dotted the edges of the boglands. X and I ran forward toward the struggling old man. X reached into his pocket and pulled out a folding knife. He cut off the old man’s gag, pulling the spit-soaked chunk of filthy cloth out of his mouth. The old man spat and licked his dry lips.
“Get me out of here, please,” he whispered, his eyes rolling wildly. “Those cult members are all batshit insane. And there’s something not right in these swamps. I caught glimpses of something while I was waiting. There’s something in the water…”
“What’s your name, bud?” X said calmingly, looking at the old man’s hands and feet to try to decide how to best get the nails out without causing more damage.
“Winchester,” he said in a coarse voice. It sounded like he hadn’t had a drink of water in days. While X looked at his hands with the LED flashlight, I reached into my pack for the small canteen of filtered water I still had. I started pouring it into Winchester’s mouth. He gulped greedily, his throat working hard to drink down the rest of it.
“I got it!” X said, taking a flat stone he had found on the ground. “I’m going to try to pound these nails out from the bottom.”
“Oh, please, no,” Winchester said, his wrinkled face turning pale. X shook his head.
“We need to get you out of here,” he said. “It’s going to hurt, bud. But we don’t have any tools here. The nails are large, almost like railroad spikes, and once we get the top part, the bottom should slide out easily since it’s a lot narrower.” As he grabbed the rock to begin his work, a bone-chilling wailing started up again from the swamps. It was the scream of Mowdoroth, that abomination with the skin of a wasp’s nest.
“Cover us!” X yelled panickedly as he continued his grisly work. Winchester screamed in pain when X first struck the nail on his right hand. It shot up a fraction of an inch, fresh blood pooling all around it and dripping through the bare planks.
I turned, but the banshee wail seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. The swamp bubbled faster and faster all around us, as if thousands of corpses were coming back to life. I heard Winchester scream again, then the dull thud of another nail hitting the earth.
A face peeked out of the swamp, only twenty feet away. Its eyes were green, the color of a putrefying wound. Its lipless mouth opened wide, showing a spongy black mass of skin with concentric circles of tiny, razor-sharp teeth. It reminded me of the mouth of a lamprey.
I opened fire, shooting wildly at the face, aiming at the body hidden under the dark surface of the swamp. Luminescent drops of green blood exploded from a bullet hole in its upper right shoulder, floating across the surface of the water like radioactive waste.
Its screaming cut off instantly. All I could hear was the pounding of the rock behind me and Winchester’s pained, horrified pleas for mercy.
“Please, you’re hurting me!” he pleaded.
“Shut the fuck up, Winchester!” I whispered. “It’s here with us now.” With considerable effort, he did, only moaning and violently jerking his head now as the waves of pain ripped through him.
“I got it!” X said suddenly. A feeling of elation filled my heart.
“Let’s go then!” I yelled, turning to help the old man up. I heard something massive rise up behind us. It mixed with the sound of dripping water and babbling waves that arose from the disturbance.
Winchester was weak, stumbling up to his feet and nearly falling over immediately. Staggering, he took off down the trail with no shoes, but he immediately gave a curse of pain and tripped. X and I started running, and at that moment, I realized the flaw in our plan. We wouldn’t be able to get Winchester out of the swamp without carrying him, due to the extensive injuries to his feet. And I knew we didn’t have time.
Mowdoroth’s body stood as tall as the trees as it looked down at the three of us with its strange, infected eyes. Its tentacles undulated faster and faster, seeming to whip around its body until they flew out towards us.
“Run!” I screamed. X and I sprinted behind a cluster of dead trees hugging the path. The blade-like hand of Mowdoroth chopped them in a half, raining wood splinters down on our heads.
Winchester continued trying to crawl forward. Mowdoroth slithered behind him. Winchester looked up as a tentacle started coming down in his direction. He gave a short, panicked scream as the blade smashed through his back legs, chopping both of them off at the knees. The ground shook with the force of it. The stumps began spurting seemingly endless amounts of blood. Winchester pleaded and made incomprehensible gurgling sounds as he bled out. Mowdoroth ended Winchester’s cries when it wrapped its tentacle around Winchester’s torso. It slithered up into Winchester’s open mouth.
X and I shot as fast as we could while running forward in the dark, trying to hold a flashlight and a pistol. Most of my shots missed Mowdoroth, but with a sense of satisfaction and pride, I saw a few burst through its enormous body. Streams of radioactive green blood ran down its torso now. As its serpentine legs pumped furiously, it gained speed, coming behind us like a runaway train. I could feel the ground shaking with every thud of its tentacled feet.
A few hundred feet ahead of us, I caught a glimpse of the cultists. They were hurrying away from the area, not running but moving much faster than they had come in. Nearly out of breath already and exhausted from hiking all day, I pointed forward.
“Look!” I screamed. X saw them, his eyes widening. We sprinted in a blind panic, as fast as we could towards the stragglers in the black robes. Without warning, X raised his pistol and fired, aiming at the nearest of them.
The figure in the back of the pack fell forward without making a sound. He continued trying to crawl forward weakly for a few moments before he lost energy and lay still, no more than a bleeding black hump on the dark earth.
X gave a sudden cry of pain next to me as a tentacle came down like a guillotine blade. I heard it whip through the air with a high-pitched whine. A single breath later, I watched in horror as it sliced off his right arm. X looked down at the spurting stump for a long moment, his tanned face turning as pale as bones. He stumbled forward, then, with a hoarse cry, he fell.
Following X’s lead, I raised my gun and started shooting the cultists. They sprinted away in a random panic as bodies fell ahead of us. I jumped over the black lumps on the ground, hearing Mowdoroth shake the world as it gave chase. A long, snake-like tentacle reached down, picking up X’s spurting body and raising it towards Mowdoroth’s leech-like mouth. The massive abomination slowed, picking up the bodies of the dead cultists and crushing them. I heard the bones shatter as the wet gore exploded around Mowdoroth’s many sharp teeth.
I saw the woods again, living trees just a few hundred feet away. The trail of black earth ended abruptly, leading out of the boglands. Cultists sprinted blindly through the forest in every direction, scattering like cockroaches. I had nearly reached the border of the forest when I heard something whizzing past my head. I ducked, but the blur of a grayish tentacle coming down sent a jolt of fear like electricity sizzling through my body.
A moment later, a cold agony covered my left hand. In shock, I looked down, realizing that the blade-like appendage of Mowdoroth had neatly amputated all four of my fingers. If I hadn’t ducked, it would’ve probably gotten my head instead.
Stumbling and screaming, my mind in a blind panic, I staggered through the intersection of the boglands and the forest, falling forward. I knew I was dead. I closed my eyes, waiting. Yet nothing happened.
When I looked back, I saw something strange. Mowdoroth had stopped at the end of the boglands. It tried to push its body forward towards me, but it couldn’t enter the forest. It was as if an invisible barrier stood there.
I lay there for a long time. After a while, I heard Mowdoroth slink back into the fetid waters of the boglands. And then I was alone.
***
I wrapped my hand in bandages as much as I could, trying to stem the bleeding. I felt weak and sick from blood loss, so I lay there until the sun came up. The next day, I was able to slowly make my way out of the forest and back towards the nearest town.
Now I hear stories of people mysteriously going missing in the area. An entire family in a nearby farmhouse only a couple dozen miles away disappeared in the middle of the night without a trace, leaving only smeared trails of blood leading into the forest. No one saw anything, but these six victims were only the first in a long line of strange deaths. Oddly enough, all of the victims lived next to swamps.
And I have the feeling that I was the one responsible.