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6/20/2025, 6:50:20 PM
>>149080958
>A small, wiry figure, no taller than a ten-year-old, darting between trees.
>It had wild, brown hair and was moving with an unnatural speed, kicking at something unseen on the ground.
>A flash of muddy overalls.
>A gremlin. Her mind screamed the word.
>It looked like a child, but it moved like something out of a horror movie. Grace blinked, rubbed her eyes.
>"Must be the heat," she whispered, shaking her head. But the thwack-thwack-thwack continued, moving away from her, deeper into the woods.
>Curiosity, a dangerous thing in the wilderness, tugged at her.
>She followed, carefully, trying not to snap twigs. The sounds led her to an opening in the trees, revealing a sight that made her stomach churn.
>A farm. Or what passed for one.
>And it was a sea of glistening, sucking, brown mud. Everywhere. Her pristine white sneakers, a beacon of urban defiance, seemed to mock her.
>She hesitated, her nose wrinkling in disgust. Mud.
>Oh, she hated mud. But the sounds had stopped at the edge of this mucky expanse, and she swore she'd seen that "gremlin" disappear into it.
>Taking a deep, fortifying breath that smelled vaguely of manure, Grace gingerly stepped into the mire. Her foot sank. "Ugh!" she groaned, trying to pull it out. It came with a sickening squelch.
>"This is disgusting. This is just… so utterly disgusting. I hate mud. I hate dirt. I hate everything about this place," she muttered, each squelch of her shoes into the viscous earth punctuating her misery.
>A small, wiry figure, no taller than a ten-year-old, darting between trees.
>It had wild, brown hair and was moving with an unnatural speed, kicking at something unseen on the ground.
>A flash of muddy overalls.
>A gremlin. Her mind screamed the word.
>It looked like a child, but it moved like something out of a horror movie. Grace blinked, rubbed her eyes.
>"Must be the heat," she whispered, shaking her head. But the thwack-thwack-thwack continued, moving away from her, deeper into the woods.
>Curiosity, a dangerous thing in the wilderness, tugged at her.
>She followed, carefully, trying not to snap twigs. The sounds led her to an opening in the trees, revealing a sight that made her stomach churn.
>A farm. Or what passed for one.
>And it was a sea of glistening, sucking, brown mud. Everywhere. Her pristine white sneakers, a beacon of urban defiance, seemed to mock her.
>She hesitated, her nose wrinkling in disgust. Mud.
>Oh, she hated mud. But the sounds had stopped at the edge of this mucky expanse, and she swore she'd seen that "gremlin" disappear into it.
>Taking a deep, fortifying breath that smelled vaguely of manure, Grace gingerly stepped into the mire. Her foot sank. "Ugh!" she groaned, trying to pull it out. It came with a sickening squelch.
>"This is disgusting. This is just… so utterly disgusting. I hate mud. I hate dirt. I hate everything about this place," she muttered, each squelch of her shoes into the viscous earth punctuating her misery.
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