By Katie Hemmerlin
I can feel their eyes tracking every movement, each limb, as I cross their bog; a passage formed from ancient metamorphic rock, each stone spaced just beyond a stride. The rules are simple: they can’t touch the stones, and no mortal or mortal object may touch their water.
I finger the key tethered around my neck. The key to my salvation. One final gate to unseal.
A detritus-laden, slithering limb bursts from the murky depths, and I spring from the safety of crumbling schist. Slime coats my front, but I’m still able to land—barely.
Then I hear a faint plop.
Yikes! Let’s hope the PLOP was that limb… but me thinks the MC better get running! Not sure where this was supposed to be, but I found myself thinking it was a video game, LOL.