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Friday, August 12, 2011

Catharsis Part 2

I stared down the eerie darkness of the vast forest, a skinny dirt trail intervening with the sky high trees. I turned the camera on and walked down the path, capturing every square inch.

"What're you doing!" Lupe called after me, "They're could be anything in there!"

"Just a peek..." I replied. Lupe quickly tip-toed behind me, aware of every sound. The rain pelted the leaves, creating a harmonic sound of drum beats. Small shards of light poured between the spaces of leaves, reflecting a powerful light into the lenses.

Startled, I searched the ground, what was that? I waved my hand slowly in the air, checking for the beam of reflected light.

"Have you gone insane?" Lupe questioned, staring at my gestures.

Ignoring him, I repeated the waving, a small dot of light colliding with my hand. I followed the direction of the light, discovering something lustrous planted into the soft dirt. I set the camera on a good angle and excavated the object, a silver watch.

"Whoa..." I gasped, amazed at my finding, "These are only on the human planet!" I rubbed the dirt off the back, an engraving reading: Elizabeth Foster, 1945.

"Let me see!" Lupe begged like a toddler. I yanked the chain of the watch out of the ground, pulling something else with it; a human hand, halfway through decomposition.

Shocked, I dropped the watch, running a few steps away from it. I gagged at the horrible image, staring at Lupe who found extreme fascination in it. Lupe picked the camera up, filming the disgusting hand.

"Lupe, you're gonna make me throw up..." I grumbled, covering my mouth.

"What are you saying?" He chuckled, "You wanted to go on this trip. You knew they're was gonna be something frightening here. This is awesome footage!"

Someone screamed behind us, making me jump out of my skin. Lupe slipped the watch through the dead human fingers, grabbing my arm and running out of the creepy forest. He stopped dead in his tracks, a thousand yard stare slapped on his face.

"What!?" I snapped, looking his direction. There was Roger, an oar tightly in his hands, defending himself from ugly, raw-hided creatures.

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