Into the Bog

If one takes a walk through the bog outside of town on moonlit nights, it is said that one may find a great deal of uncanny things. Take care not to stray from the common path, for the marshlands are vast, confusing, and unfriendly to mortal souls.

Keeping these thoughts close at hand, I gazed back at the soft glow of the village’s oil lanterns, before turning around and making my way down the hill towards the bog. As I approached the treeline, I held up my personal lamp, and began to search for the entry-point. I didn’t want to be doing this, but I had promised Mrs. Graeder that I’d help look for her kid. Alice was her name, and she had earned quite the reputation as an explorer at the young age of six. We asked around but nobody had seen Alice for several hours, and it was already dark. I knew then that she had probably gotten lost in the bog. I don’t care how adventurous they are, no child wants to be away from home and warmth so late at night.

So there I was, feet squishing in the soft earth as the damp smell of the marsh enveloped me. Scum hung from the branches, casting long and distorted shadows in the wake of my lamp’s glow. Clouds of insects filled the air, as I stepped over festering pools of muck. After about 15 minutes of walking and calling Alice’s name, I heard a small voice.

“Aa--li-ce. He-llo?”

I turned to face the noise, and saw her standing there. Her tiny self was a short ways down a smaller trail, off to my right. I could practically feel how cold she was just from looking at her. I mean, the poor thing was shaking so much. I called her over, telling her that everything was okay and that I was there to bring her home. Still shivering, she walked toward me. Relieved that I had found the girl and could now get the hell out of there, I picked her up and began walking back the way I came. While I was carrying the her, I began to notice that she felt a bit heavier than a six-year-old girl should. I figured that it was due to the fact that her clothes were completely soaked-through with that dark marsh water.

It wasn't long before Alice began to make these groaning noises, like the kind a kid makes when their tummy is upset. I began to worry that she might be getting sick, and picked up my pace. The noises she was making began to sound deeper, and more erratic. Suddenly, they no longer sounded like they belonged to a small child, but to an agitated animal. Her body had begun heaving with each sound, violently convulsing in my arms. I held my lamp close to get a better look and…

In that moment what were supposed to be Alice’s lips and teeth had extended off of her face, as if reaching out towards me. In my shock I dropped her, and as she fell I saw her elongated mouth snap at me; her unnaturallt long fingers grasping upwards. She landed in a puddle of muck and dirty water, and I began to run. I didn’t stop until I broke through the treeline. The fear coursing through me didn’t make it any easier to see Mrs. Graeder’s face when she opened the door to see me standing there without her child in tow. As I explained to her what happened, I could see tears form in her eyes. Mrs. Graeder was a wise old woman; she didn’t accuse me of being a coward, but she also fully understood that she was never going to see her daughter again.

If one takes a walk through the bog outside of town on moonlit nights, it is said that one may find a great deal of uncanny things. Take care not to stray from the common path, for the marshlands are vast, confusing, and unfriendly to mortal souls. Venture out only if you must, and never too deep, lest the bog claim you for its own.