Fiction logo

A Short Walk to the Pond

Four bodies.

By JasonPublished 2 years ago 3 min read
Like
A Short Walk to the Pond
Photo by Eric Muhr on Unsplash

The thick vines form a dying canopy, and it looms close above your head. Reaching. Grasping. You're treading carefully - oh, so carefully - through this unknown forest.

The letter was scarce on details. Just the directions you were following now, trudging through mud and bush and overgrowth. It was vaguely threatening, though now that you try to remember, you can't quite recall what compelled you to follow the instructions.

Four dead bodies. You needed to find them. The letter didn't say what killed them. What the letter did say, was that you would know one of the bodies. That there would be a familiarity. That you would understand once you arrived.

Family, maybe? Unlikely. You know what they're like. Friends, well, you hope not, even if many are fair-weather.

The canopy droops lower and lower and the ground beneath you seems to slant down as you walk. You start brushing vines aside and dodging the webs of unknown insects.

It's when you almost lose your balance down the slope that you see the clearing. A welcome sight, a literal breath of fresh air.

The light from the clearing stings your eyes and the final brush of vine to be pushed aside scratches back at you, but you leave the density of the forest behind you.

A strange relief.

There's a small enclave before you. Some small oasis within the forestry. The small pond sprawls in all directions, but not very far. Shrubbery lines the edge of the bank. Some of it reaches into the murky water, most of it creeps away.

It was a strange space. Something familiar, and calming, in the air. You take a few steps forward, steadying yourself down the slant and kicking aside stones and debris from the trees.

You look to that pond for something else familiar. Your reflection, maybe. The surface shimmers only slightly, and moves independent of the mass hiding beneath it.

There's a smell coming from that surface. It makes you gag, and you force your head upwards. The overcast sky. It breaks in only superficially, and leaves rays of light. Spores dance in the air.

It's almost enough to push you forward. To find these four dead bodies. With clarity returning, you force your gaze back downwards. That turbid water. Cloudy and vague. You wonder if there are any fish swimming down there.

You hope not.

Scanning your environment, checking through every darkened cove and dying log, you finally see what you came here to see. The stomach-churning sight that sets off something primitive in your brain.

There's an instinct to run, or hide, or pick up a branch - but that letter. It flashes in your mind again, and you're drawn towards it. The sight of the bodies, neatly arranged, shoulder-to-shoulder.

You trudge across, skimping the edge of the water and staining your pants with the disgusting liquid. The smell is with you now, and you feel that even after several change of clothes, it will be with you forever.

The forms of the bodies come into view and you make out features. You don't recognize any of them. The natural repulsion you'd usually feel from seeing a corpse is utterly suppressed. There's now a panic creeping in the back of your mind. Something burning the back of your neck.

At first you don't understand. You're missing something. Maybe one of them is your mailman, or a cashier you visited, or -

Wait a minute.

One. Two. Three.

You double check. You pivot around in place and scan everything.

You're certain of it. None of them look remotely familiar.

But where's the fourth body?

Horror
Like

About the Creator

Jason

Copywriter by trade. Hobbyist creative writer. Weird lizard man. Analyzing a little bit of everything, with lots of rambling.

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.