Nightmare Log 3/30/16

I am driving in my red pickup truck, and it is nighttime.

I am not driving calmly.

Something has chased me off the highway and I am on a back road I do not know.

The road winds through the thick woods, and I can not see behind me, can not see if I am being followed. My headlights shine against the trees, but do not illuminate the forest. It remains dark ahead of me, the reflected light only illuminating a few inches in front of me.

I keep driving – slowly, quietly. I want to gun it, to get away, but worry the rev of the engine will alert the thing that is chasing me. I hope it has lost track of me. Ahead there is a break in the trees, and the area is flooded with light from my car.

A field – solid ground gradually giving way to swampland. And in it a chain-link fence, encircling some sort of pylon that has sunk into the swamp. The fence has a “danger: high-voltage” sign with a skull and crossbones on it.

I stop, thinking I have driven far enough, and that I should turn off the headlights for a bit so nothing can find me. I am spooked still, and I hear crunching in the forest. Too big to be a deer. Too much to be even a heard of deer.

I look back at the swamp. The pylon has sunk deeper. Listing.

The front of my car is beginning to tip, the ground under the wheels dissolving into the muck. I can not turn back, and the crunching continues in the undergrowth.

At the base of the pylon, air bubbles rise to the surface of the brackish water – the last gasping breaths of something drowned. Or the yawn of some vast waking thing.

Something moves beneath the waters of the swamp.

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