Raking Leaves

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It’s a seemingly normal October Sunday. The cool, brisk breeze blows and rustles some leaves off of a tree as I rake in my backyard. I sigh as I make my way over to the newly fallen leaves. Just then, I hear something coming out of my growing pile of leaves. I sharply turn around, rake in hand. I carefully shuffle over to the pile as the noise becomes clearer. It sounds almost like a liquid sloshing around, but the leaves are bone dry. Hesitantly, I stab the stack of leaves with my rake, and a pool of black ooze comes gushing out. I swiftly back away in shock and inspect the smelly, tar-like matter. As the leaves flow away with the stream of peculiar goo, a message is left behind carved into the ground. Your Time Has Come it reads. The fluid around me then bubbles up and grows around me. I try to escape it, but the puddle of darkness begins to swallow me up. I cry out for help, but with no such luck. I’ve been engulfed by the strange ooze. I feel it seeping into my skin, tearing my flesh apart. The last few moments I have alive are nothing but agony. I black out, never to awake again.

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Post Privacy Published on October 31 | Creativity
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