Muddy is the ground sodden by rain. From this mud something awakens. It rises and stands on mucked legs like some sort of earthen man, moving toward me, one squishing step after another. He walks slowly. His body though shaped as that of a man, appears to lack solidity. As if he could collapse into a puddle at any moment.

I tread through mud that sits just below my knees. Each sucking step like moving through glue. Holding me back. Begging me to stay. I can see the form behind me. Moving quicker. Pursuing. I try to run. I try. It’s like a dream.

The form is gaining on me. The sound of mud moving like fingers through ground meat and the slapping sound of mud dropping onto more mud. Almost like flesh against flesh.

I turn to look. The form is near. Almost on me. “Please,” I beg. I don’t even know if it understands. But it doesn’t stop.

It hits me like a heavy wave and buckles my knees. Wraps around me. Takes me into the thick murk. Weighs me down.

I feel something. Plants? No. Hands. Dozens of them. Maybe more. They reach from below and grab me. They drag me to depths unknown. Into a muddy abyss.