11-country scenery photos Funky Junk Interiors-0282.jpg

The air was humid and the rain continued to fall, soaking the once parched earth. It'd been a while since it had rained like this. Unusual for summer weather, but you were enjoying it until now. You had been walking home when you stopped at a nearby field by the roadside to take in the scenery. The grass was tall, almost tall enough to stand in and be completely hidden by the waving stalks. It obviously hadn't been tended to in some time and gave off an eerie feeling. Staring at it was like looking into a dark alleyway at night; as hard as you may try, you have no idea if anything is looking back.

Whilst standing there you notice that the rain had begun falling at an intensity that gave you cause for concern, staying much longer gawking at grass would leave you drenched and more than a little irritated to say the least. Home is still a few miles away and there's no chance you'd make it before getting drenched. Looking around you notice a small shed-like building jutting above the grass deeper into the field. Not giving it a second thought you rush down the remnants of a trail cutting through the grass leading up to the building. Getting to the shed you find its door to be, well, nonexistent. It appears that what remains of the door's hinges are rusted and torn clumps of brown and orange metal bending outwards. Shrugging it off, you steal yourself away inside, putting your back to the contents of the shed whilst peering back out of your entrance. The rain now roaring outside causes you to retreat further into the shed. Upon doing so it comes to your attention just how far back this "shed" really goes.

You turn around to see shelves lined with what you'd expect to find in such a place — gardening tools, old bags of manure and various other inconspicuous knick-knacks. And then something not quite as common, a set of stone stairs covered in what appears to be a viscous sludge leading under ground into a darkness only slightly penetrated by the light coming from the doorway.

For a while you ponder what could cause such a gross sight, as the ceiling is intact and the steps too far away from the entrance for it to be caused by rain water. You smirk as it comes to mind the numerous horror movies and stereotypical scenarios in which the protagonist is faced with a similar situation, choosing to investigate only to be stabbed by a rogue psychopath or devoured by an unspeakable evil. Not wanting to tempt fate you keep your distance, now a little more willing to risk getting splashed by the now dying rain. After a few minutes of switching your gaze back and forth from the stairs to the doorway, the rain finally finishes its assault and you get ready to head home, where your bed awaits your arrival.

Turning to face the exit you go to step through the doorway, only to have your leg firmly yanked and head plummeting towards the ground. An intense pain shoots through your head, making your world spin. It's amazing you're still conscious, though after opening your eyes you wish you weren't you are greeted with the impossible: a face as dark as the shadows with no obvious features except a pair of stalks jutting out from either side. A long tendril comes from what you can only assume is its mouth. The tendril appears to be retreating back into its cavernous maw. It is then you realise why this exists in the first place; you hadn't noticed the intense pain before now, but the tendril is piercing through your leg with its sharp, barbed tip, reeling you in towards its master.

You kick, scream and claw at your ankle to no avail. As your legs, torso and arms become numb and are slowly enveloped into this hellish creature, you let out one final scream that is quickly muffled and silenced permanently.

Credited to Skott Pye 

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