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| Fishing |
My land lies next to a swampy plot of forest that has a creek running through it. I'm friends with the owner, and he allows me to fish in the creek. I've caught some nice bass and catfish from those waters. I usually give them to my friend, as I'm the only one at my house who enjoys eating fish. Before I head out on my fishing trips, I tell my wife where I'm going and when I think I'll be back. If there any changes, I reasoned, I could always call her on my cellphone. When I get ready to fish at my friend's place, she always says the same thing: "Just be careful. There's no telling what's lurking around in that marsh."
One day I prepared my gear for a fishing trip. As usual, my wife said, "Just be careful. There's no telling what's lurking around in that marsh." I'd never had any encounters with anything - other than a few cottonmouths - but I assured her that I would stay safe.
I made my way through the willows and arrived at the stream. I began fishing like I always did and had caught a few fish when I heard a long, low moan. Or maybe it was a groan. It was frightening, so much so that I reached for my pistol, only to realize that I had left it in my truck.
I packed my gear quickly and prepared to leave. At that exact moment, something crashed through the willows and brush. It was something green, the color of the swamp, a creature about eight feet tall and three or four feet wide. Its stench was unbearable. The monster moaned again and raised its arms as though it were going to make a grab for me.
See Part 2 here.
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