The moment the sweet smell of human sweat infiltrated its lair, the being knew the tunnel had been discovered. Any fleeting thoughts of regret or the necessity to locate a new hideout were eclipsed by the prospect of food approaching. For the past few days, it had feasted on a variety of woodland creatures, their succulent flesh nourished the beast and invigorated its senses. But now, a newfound strength coursed through its veins, and it hungered for something more substantial.
The entity grinned, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth. It was a grin crafted by the most sadistic and twisted of artists – one that promised pain, suffering, and an eternity of darkness for those who dared to cross its path. Its eyes burned with an unholy fire, the pupils dilated into slits that pulsed with a vindictive energy. The scent of the interlopers was overwhelming, a heady mix of sweat and fear that sent the creature into a frenzy of bloodlust.
Dieter enlisted the help of Stefan and Thomas, younger than him, brimming with cheekiness yet diligent workers who usually followed instructions. He picked them up from the town hall in Bergen and drove them to Glyn Hughes Barracks, pleased to see that they had come well-equipped. They wore appropriate clothing and footwear, and carried torches, sandwiches, and beer.
Dieter had warned his co-workers about the stench emanating from the dark hole in the ground, but even he wasn’t prepared for the assault on his senses. Yesterday’s odour had made him gag, but today’s stink was on a whole other level. The smell was a living, breathing thing, with a life of its own. It had a texture, a weight, a density that pressed against Dieter’s face like a physical force. He could feel it slithering into his pores, oozing down his throat, making him gag and heave. Dieter looked at his companions and felt a pang of pity for them. Stefan was still retching, his face ashen and covered in sweat. Thomas had abandoned them, fleeing like a scared rabbit.
Dieter and Stefan stood before the gaping maw of the hole for around fifteen minutes, attempting to acclimatise to the rancid, nauseating stench which they could still smell despite their masks. With trembling hands, they prepared their gear, determined to descend into the depths of the unknown. Thomas had joined them, red-faced and flustered, his nerves frayed after bearing the brunt of Dieter’s fiery temper. The German word for coward had been hurled at him like a dagger along with a barrage of words far more profane, and they had found their mark.
Dieter’s eyes darted around the area surrounding the hole, and what he saw was unusual. The vegetation that once thrived with life was now dead and withered. Its once vibrant green leaves were now a sickly grey, oozing a vile and demonic substance akin to putrid snot. The viscous residue looked like it could be poisonous, with its malevolent dollops tempting fate with its very existence. But that wasn’t the worst of it. Dieter saw a trail of destruction leading off towards the woods. The same sickly grey leaves lined the path, and the disgusting snot-like substance was everywhere – daring anyone to follow it – promising them an encounter with something sinister and unfriendly.
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