theveryworstthing:

theveryworstthing:

anon wanted to know about this gal so here’s her blurb from the zine i’m working on :

She gives them a pretty good head start all things
considered. This part of the woods was perfect for running, nice full moon,
well-kept paths. Should be no problem steering them back to the cabin. It was a
standard night. Rowdy idiots come down for a weekend at a deserted cabin, find
disturbing journal written by an unknown author, disobeys its rules for kicks.
The usual. The blond lady trips on what has to be the only rock on the entire
20 mile trail and the man, a hiker they met at the lake, pushes her ahead and
tells her to run. When they reach the cabin door she’s the last one in and but
not the only one to hear the wet impact of crushed meat behind her. The creature
has a huge twisted hand sunk into the hiker’s chest, dragging him into the
trees as he gurgles and twitches on the forest floor. She looks into his wide
glassy eyes one last time and bolts inside, locking the door behind her.

Minutes later Cynthia watched the pandemonium unfold
from her laptop screen on the only good wifi spot for miles. She took another
wet nap and wiped blood off the touchpad. George sat nearby, rinsing out his
chest cavity with a bottle of water. She watched as the terrified group cobbled
together weapons and barricaded doors. George shook the water off of his right
lung and looked over her shoulder.

“They hunkering down Cyn?”

“Yeah,” she took another sip of coffee “looks like
they’re gonna wait it out till morning. Probably for the best by the state of
all those beer cans left at the lake. I’ll call the station and have them
picked up. We spooked ‘em pretty good.” That was an understatement. At least 3
of them had pissed themselves. A personal best.

George sank into the chair beside her. “Serves ‘em
right. Littering, setting off fireworks in one of the driest seasons we’ve had
in years. Fuck ‘em.”

Cynthia pulled her ranger jacket on and poured
another cup of coffee. They had been warned. Said it right there in the
book.  She handed the mug to George and
started in on a pack of oreos.

“Yeah. Fuck ‘em”

i still really like this one.