The dismal swamp holds many secrets, the vast majority she never betrays.
Not quite a bustling riverbank, but she is much more serene. She lures you in with the sweet hum of birds and frogs, gently enveloping you in a cloud of hypnotic white noise. The heavy moisture in the air makes it more difficult to focus as your skin starts to get sticky from the stagnant vapor.
She is beauty and grace; gentle and whirling; both fragrant and pungent – she is majestic. She brushes against your skin with a soft, playful tickle that invites you further.
The rhythmic backdrop is a contraindication to the truer horrors that lurk beneath. As the sun sets and the shadows gain traction, her entities peer out from their depths.
Orange, yellow, and green eyes, all glowing, follow your footsteps as you’re enamored by Spanish Moss and spider lilies growing out of the richness intruders leave behind.
A stumble turns into a fall towards tangling vines, and you’re caught, but frozen in place. A touch of something has started to take effect and warp the perception of reality before you.
Drawn in by the allure of life and growth has instead given way to finality and repose.
The dismal swamp takes what she wants without a word or a whisper, instead choosing the easiest to mold. Secrets are easiest to guard when they are weak and malleable.
Galactic Bubbles 