CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "Working as an Aussie Bush Ranger" Creepypasta

Episode Date: August 15, 2020

There's more to fear in the Australian outback. CREEPYPASTA STORY- by ranger10123: ►https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comm... ►https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comm...►https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comm...Creepypastas are the campfire tales of the internet. Horror stories spread through Reddit r/nosleep, forums and blogs, rather than word of mouth. Whether you believe these scary stories to be true or not is left to your own discretion and imagination. LISTEN TO CREEPYPASTAS ON THE GO-SPOTIFY► https://open.spotify.com/show/7l0iRPd...iTUNES► https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast...CREEPY THUMBNAIL ART BY- Juan Angel: ►https://www.artstation.com/artwork/ZY05Z►https://www.instagram.com/artofjuanan...SUGGESTED CREEPYPASTA PLAYLISTS-►"Good Places to Start"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g7YCb...►"Personal Favourites"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AEa2R...►"Written by me"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gX6RA...►"Long Stories"- https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list...FOLLOW ME ON-►Twitter: https://twitter.com/Creeps_McPasta►Instagram: https://instagram.com/creepsmcpasta/►Twitch: http://www.twitch.tv/creepsmcpasta►Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CreepsMcPastaCREEPYPASTA MUSIC/ SFX- ►http://bit.ly/Audionic ♪►http://bit.ly/Myuusic ♪►http://bit.ly/incompt ♪►http://bit.ly/EpidemicM ♪-This creepypasta is for entertainment purposes only-

If anyone ever finds out I'm writing this down, they're going to kill me. Not in a metaphorical getting yelled at a bit sort of way. Not in a slightly more serious, getting in legal trouble sort of way. Not even in a sexy way, like getting choked out or cutting off vertically, or beaten to death with my own decapitated arm or something. At least that's what Sidney tells me sexy. I'm not too sure about to taste, though. Nah, if they find out about this, I'm done.

No excuses, no final words, no goodbye. So, uh, I'm really sticking out my bloody neck for you guys, getting this information out here. You're welcome. Actually, never mind. There's no need to thank me. Really, don't thank me. I'm not doing it for you, or for any future tourists who come across this post, or even to save the ward from the inevitable return of the old gods,

tethered as he is to the very ground I'm resting on now. Nah, I'm just really bored, man. It's driving me up the bloody wall. We don't get much Wi-Fi out here, and our next delivery isn't scheduled for another five days, so I'm kind of running on empty when it comes to reading material. Gordon stuck me on souvenir shop duty for the next week at least, just because I let the not platypus,

a giant platypus-looking thing that leads to the drop bears, eat a few tourists. He's insufferable, that guy is, and a total power trip, just because he's the oldest and the smartest and the strongest and the most qualified and probably the best looking, objectively speaking. Look, point is, I'm bored, I'm young. Daddy issues are manifesting as an urge to stick it to the boss,

who in this case is actually my little father and also the entire Australian government who have poured their hearts and souls and billions of taxpayer dollars into keeping this place under wraps, so I figured why not undo some of that work. Write down a few of my experiences, publish it next time I get a modicum of internet, await my inevitable subsequent death,

as, at the very least, a long-awaited end to the humiliation that is saying, good a mate, there are a bloody tourist who walks through these bloody doors. So, if you're interested, then stick around. I'll tell you a story. This happened about five days ago, assuming we didn't lose any time to the hot days.

That happened sometimes. I don't know how it works in colder countries, but here in Australia, sometimes it gets hot, like really hot, like thongs melting and sticking to the asphalt hot. And it's worse here, of course. Everything is. A national park, about three hours of four-wheel driving

out of the nearest town, middle of nowhere, Australia. I should probably describe the place. If you've ever been to the Australian bush, then you'll know what it looks like, on the surface at least. It's not. Here's a quick crash course. Any colour that once existed

has long since been beaten out of our plants by centuries under a vengeful sun. It's a good couple hectares long in every direction and always a single careless smoker away from devastating bushfires. and it's never quiet. If it's not a cougabora cackling overhead, then it's the never-ending rasp of cicadas and crickets

or the rustle of a creature navigating the dry brush just beyond the tree line. I may not sound too fond in my descriptions, but trust me, it's home. I can't imagine living anywhere else. And all of this is managed by just a small team of park rangers, hand-picked for the job by powers unknown. The government.

It was the government. They're not slick. Which brings me back to five days ago, give or take, a few memories stolen by the heat. I was on my desk duty in the souvenir shop, as I've already established. It's a small wooden cabin by the driveway, the only way to access the park via the roads.

We've got a few shelves of various wotsets and trinkets, like boxing kangaroos and I-heart Australia shirt. But not many tourists survive. long enough to actually buy anything on their way out, so I wasn't expecting much business. I had my head buried in a book, the last one before my stock ran dry, may it rest in peace, and honestly barely noticed the car pull up and the woman entered the store until she was standing right in front of me. Assuming she was one of the endless dream of tourists, I looked up and gave her my most friendly customer service smile.

Good-day mate, interested in the didgeridoo, magnate, are you? maybe a stuffed koala bear. She looked at the display of rusty magnets and moth-eaten stuffed animals that adorned the counter between us, then turned her gaze back to me and shook her head. No, thank you, but they're very

cute. She was obviously lying to me. There was literally a cockroach running across them as we spoke. But her accent was American, so I could tell she was just trying to be nice. Okay, I said, and then returned

my book. Job done. It took me a few moments to realize she was still standing there, expecting something. Uh, can I do anything for you? She blinked. You're not expecting me? I blinked right back. I literally don't even know who you are. She flushed and I realized too late that that probably came off as rude. Before I could apologize, she, She was rambling. Oh, I'm so sorry. I should have introduced myself. I'm Lizzie Grundy.

I'm the new Ranger. I was told you had an opening here. Sorry, I've put in the application and got accepted and everything. I thought you'd be expecting me. Sorry. You apologize a lot, I said, before my brain caught up with everything, she said, and I narrowed my eyes at her. Wait, you're our new Ranger? Why the hell were they hire you?

That sounds rude, I get it. You'll probably notice I have a habit of sounding rude when not meaning to. I just don't have the greatest grasp on social interactions, but I really did mean it as more of a compliment of sorts. Like I said, this isn't exactly a normal park. We know exactly normal rangers. They don't want us doing our jobs, writing reports about the dead and missing,

getting too near what passes as wildlife here, working from an urge to actually look after our forests rather than the want of a hefty paycheck. And this girl didn't exactly look like the type to let weird stuff slide. She was short, a few centimetres shorter than myself. Embarrassing to admit as a dude, but we can't all be a hymnsworth,

with dark skin and brown hair cut just above her shoulders, making a triangle with its volume. Her teeth were white, hair neatly done, clothes ironed, and, I kid you not, her pen was balanced behind her right ear. She was probably a little bit older than me, about 22 or 23 maybe, and carried herself with a posture of a dancer, or anyone cursed to perpetually have a stick up their ass.

Point is, she looked like the sort to use highlighters in her notes, to take notes in the first place. Definitely, not the sort to let things slide. So why the hell were they hire her? and now she was more flush than ever. Excuse me, what's that supposed to mean? I decided a topic change was in order. Oh yeah, we've been expecting a new ranger. I totally forgot.

She stared at me. I stared at her. She decided it wasn't worth it. Right, well, cool. Yeah, um, who's in charge here? here. The boss, I answered. She smiled at me, evidently resisting the urge to bash my head into the very magnets I was trying to sell. Wouldn't be the first time, that's for sure.

I guessed as much, she responded. But what's their name? Where's their office? I need to introduce myself. I shrugged. We just call him the boss. I didn't tell her where his office was. not until she knew the rules You don't enter the boss's office Hell, if it's after dark You don't even look at it That's actually how the new Ranger position was opened The boss is hungry

And isn't a picky eater So instead I decided to send her where we send all our problems To Gordon Look, continue into the park Then go through the gate on the right That's where our cabins are Go to one without any blood stains on the door

And find Gordon he'll help you out. She didn't ask about the blood, probably to be polite. I appreciated it. Instead, she just nodded slowly and moved towards a glass door that opened into the park.

I called out after her as a last minute thought. Oh, and watch out for the drop bears. They've been in a bad mood lately. She laughed. I didn't. She stopped laughing and finally began to look a little pears.

I'm a tourist, not stupid. Those two things aren't mutually exclusive, I responded wisely, speaking from experience. She didn't look impressed. Well, in my case they are. Thanks for nothing, Lou. I spent a valuable second wondering how she knew my name. Before remembering, I wore a name tag. By then, she was gone, and I could only call out after.

her. Just don't stand under any eucalyptus trees. They haven't fed for a fortnight now." Evidently, she didn't listen. We didn't hold her any funeral. It seemed unnecessary, since I was the only one who'd ever even spoken to her. A conversation in which she was kind of snappy, might I add. Just dragged what was left of her body to the radiation pit and let Sidney throw her in

with the others. It was a pretty upbeat affair. It meant the drop bears had been fed, and so it wouldn't bother us for at least another few days. And, because it was an occasion to dispose of an employee, Ava used it as an excuse to bake cupcakes. They were Dead Ranger themed, squirted with, hopefully, fake blood and guts. One of them even had a remarkably detailed recreation of a squashed, half eaten, then thrown up eyeball, just like the real body did, juices and all.

In conclusion, a pretty good day, even if I did finish my last book and have to resort to more creative methods of keeping myself busy. The next day though, at about the same hour in the morning, something unusual happened. Even more unusual than my usual. I was trying to pass time by bouncing a ping pong ball at the wall, a fan wearing full blast beside me, sweat dripping down my back regardless, when another car pulled up in front of the shop. A woman entered. I stared at her. Whose car is that out there?

She asked. For someone who had been mauled to death by mutilated koalas just the day before, skin strung like confetti across the trees, she was looking remarkably healthy. It looks exactly like mine. I opened my mouth, then closed it. Hello? I said.

Hi, she responded. Very chipper for a dead woman. My name's Lizzie. It's Lou, right? Yeah. You're the new ranger? She beamed. You've been expecting me?

I hoped you would. Is there a surprise party? Sorry, that's presumptuous, right? And even if there was a surprise party, which I hope there is, you wouldn't tell me because then it wouldn't be surprised anymore. I'm so excited to work here. You all seem so nice already.

I almost enter out. to get mauled by drop bears again just to avoid things getting awkward when there was no party. But since they'd just been fed, I doubted they'd do anything fatal. Instead, I decided I should do the responsible thing and make her someone else's problem. I stood up. I'll take you to Gordon. He'll sort things out for you. Fantastic!

she cried, clasping my hand and shaking it rigorously. I tried to not cringe at that unexpected contact. It's so nice to meet you, Lou, I'm sure we'll be best friends. Again, it took quite some mental effort to stop myself from sending her to the drop bears. Right, I said, wiping my hand on my pants. Cool. Uh, follow me. We got to the cabin with no incident and entered Gordon's place without knocking. He and Sydney were both in there, presumably making out or fighting, or whatever else it is that.

exes do. There was a monopoly board between them. Sydney's face broke into a lazy smile when I opened the door, which quickly dropped to a silent, oh, when Lizzie slid him behind me. Gordon's expression remained a tight frown. Shouldn't you be manning the souvenir shop? He asked. I tried to make my expression convey that whatever was happening was a bit more important than the souvenirs, but I've never been two grated expressions, so I probably just look constipated. Well, I said slowly. Our new Ranger just arrived, so I thought I'd bring it to you. Okay, Gordon replied.

She's here. Now get back to your station. I wiggled my eyebrows at him, desperately trying to make him realize how weird the situation was. Based on Sidney's disturbed reaction, I was probably looking. that Lizzie still stood a little bit behind me and couldn't see my face. But it's Lizzie, Gordon, our new ranger. I said, packing as much meaning behind each word as I could. Yes, he agreed, it is.

Our very special new ranger. Aww, Lizzie said, sounding flustered. You're too sweet. I'm really just like any other ranger though, even if I do have very extensive experience. experience in the area and formal education in... Gordon isn't in charge here, I interrupted her. She deflated. Oh.

Look, uh, Lizzie, is it? Gordon said, getting to his feet. He's a tall man, about six or seven years older than me, and more than a head taller. He's the descendant of the indigenous people of the land, with dark skin and hair, and he's all sharp edges. Sharp cheekbones, bus cut hair, bony finger. fingers, except for his eyes. They're soft. Do you mind waiting outside for a second?

We weren't expecting you this early, and apparently Lou has something to say. Liz's eyes lit up. I hoped she was expecting a surprise party, but the way she slipped out the door, practically slamming it behind her in her haste didn't make me optimistic. Gordon raised the brow at me as he turned to me. You, he said. He said, Are embarrassingly bad at playing it cool.

Playing it cool? I hissed back, incredulously. That's a bloody zombie, Gordon. A zombie just walked into your cabin. That's badass, Sidney drawled, stealing $100 monopoly bills from the bank. I told you something cool would happen

if we threw all the dead things in the radiation pit. They're not dead things, Sydney. Gordon said, with the air of a man who has said this too many times, times. Their casualties who we respect and we mourn their tragic passings. I've always wanted to make out with a zombie. Sydney mused with the air of a woman who couldn't care less. Sydney is only a little shorter than Gordon, but far more lanky, all sharp elbows and knobbly

knees. She hasn't brushed her blonde hair for years and it sticks out in all directions less wrangled into a messy bun. Her cheekbones are wide and closed. are always loose and baggy. She's been at the park for the longest, besides me of course, and we know each other pretty well, even if I doubt her romantic tastes. I tried to gently pour their attention back to the issue at hand. Shut the hell up and pay attention to the issue at hand. That is a zombie. Is it though? Gordon wondered. I mean, if it was a zombie, then wouldn't it come back all messed up? Her body wasn't exactly. pretty.

There was a silent moment, as we all recalled the state of the body had been in. Gordon's features were respectful. I tried to stop myself from looking as disgusted as I felt. Sidney, let out a contented sigh. Here's what we're going to do, Gordon said finally. Lou, get back to the shop. You're not escaping your punishment just because of a small undead

infestation. Sidney, distract Lizzie. I'll burn a sacrifice to the boss and ask him what we should do. You're leaving me alone with a zombie? Sidney sounded far too excited about this, and a smile grew predatory. Never mind, Gordon decided. Sidney, you're going to the shop. Lou, you can look after Lizzie.

We both protested, each for very different reasons, but Gordon wasn't the sort to accept no. And if I was a little peeved about having to spend the rest of the day trudging around with the reincarnated, absurdly organized, an annoyingly talkative park ranger. Could you blame me? And, if I just happened to accidentally stray near the old liarbird nesting area,

could you blame me? And if Lizzie happened to hear the voices of her loved ones crying for help from beyond the tree line, just out of sight, and was unable to fight the all-consuming compulsion to go and save them, well, could you really blame me? Gordon blamed me.

He called me, homicidal, which I thought was a bit rude. Sidney was also pretty mad, but Ava said she understood. Apparently, the trees told her that Lizzie was destined to die anyway, so it wasn't really my fault. I told her she should probably stop taking drugs, then she got mad. Now I'm on souvenir duty a week longer, which I think is a bit unfair for a single murder, but it was probably because of how I insulted Ava as well. I felt a bit bad about that one. Ava is the final ranger, and a bit of an odd ball.

Her hair is as bright as mine is dark, a brilliant orange colour that sits around her head like a halo. She wears a pointy hat and speaks to the trees, and she's the only one that the drop bears won't hurt. I think they're not platybuss likes her. She's probably the nicest of us all, even if she does have the highest kill count. All those poor children.

But that's a story for another day. I'll finish up this story first. Honestly, you can probably see where this is going. I don't know why I keep trying to build suspense. The next morning, I was in the shop, bored to the point of reenacting Titanic with the stuffed animals on the counter when a car pulled up out front. I put down the animals with an exasperated sigh.

A woman entered the shop. Whose cars are they? there, she asked. They both look exactly like mine. That was three days ago. We've managed to keep her alive since then, which is a good thing because those cars out front are starting to pile up and they all have the same number plate. That won't look good the next time the cops pay us a visit. She doesn't seem to remember anything about her first two appearances and we're trying to keep her that way until we figure out what's going on. The boss has finally accepted.

our offerings to him, so Gordon's going to talk to him about it tomorrow, see what's happening. For now, the rest of us are just trying to make sure this girl doesn't come across anything, unto Ward around here, because she doesn't seem the sort to keep the secrets we need kept. And that's all for now. I have so many stories to tell about this place, so I'll probably write a follow-up or two. Tell you more about the Knott Platybus, or the Radiation Pit, or the cute Bonnyip, or the Billabong, or Roger the Red Black Spider, or the clones of all the Prime Ministers that hunt small rodents and children at night. Or maybe I'll keep you up to date with the Lizzie situation,

or tell you why this place exists, who the boss is, who's keeping us under wraps. But that's all for another day. For now. Good night. I wasn't expecting so many questions on my last post. Someone called Livson even said, I seemed like a cool guy. and by God they kept me smiling all day. Of course, they also call me weird,

but I don't have much of a semblance of normal, so I suppose they may not have been wrong. A few of you also expressed interest in the radiation pit, and I was going to answer, but then realised that I actually don't know all that much about it. Like at all. It kind of just... exists.

And, since it's been a constant in this place for as long as I can remember, it's never really occurred to me to look into it further. But for you, my adoring fans, I decided to go poking around for a bit. Only one problem. I had to bring Lizzie with me. When we spoke to the boss, he said that I had to be the one showing around, so now I can't go anywhere without her shadowing me and taking notes.

The boss also said I couldn't kill her again, because he can be a downer like that. I told him I can't make any promises because she can be really annoying, but he ate three of my toes and a finger, so I decided I should probably do as he says. At least I get off souvenir duty now, I suppose. Don't worry about my toes though. They're growing back already, and it was only a little bit of insufferable agony. Built character, I reckon. We set off yesterday at about 4pm.

We were supposed to leave in the morning, but some torrent. were freaking out about their kid being chased by former Australian Prime Minister Tony Abbott or something, and we were held back until midday, at which point we decided it was safer to wait until after 2pm, because you never ever go out in the sun at 2pm. I wouldn't wish that are my worst enemy. Lizzie suggested we wear sun cream if I was so worried about getting burnt, and I told her getting burnt was the least of our worries at 2pm. But she just laughed. She does that a lot. I don't think she realises how things work around her yet.

The pit is about a half-hour's trek away from the park's entrance in our cabins, along one of the many bus tracks formed under the trampling of decades of feet. You can tell when you're getting close because your hair starts to singe, especially in your nose. Then your eyes start to water. Then, if you loiter nearby for too long, your fingers start twisting of their own accord, and little black spots grow that almost look like eyes.

I've never hung around beyond that point, but one time an old ranger disappeared while checking up on the pit and we had ten new skin-coloured snakes hunting tourists in the area with a hard shell over the head that almost seemed like fingernails. It was Liz's first time at the pit, and she wasn't taking it well. What the hell is this? She hissed when we reached the edge, squinting her nose at the searing odour that wafted

out from under the tattered blue tarp. Is this... Is this a garbage pit in the middle of the forest we're supposed to be preserving? No, I said. It's not garbage. It kind of is, I guess, since we throw most of our trash in there,

but that's only because the pit likes it. It eats most of it within the day, so it's not like we're littering. I don't litter. I'm not a monster. Then what is it? It's the radiation pit. She looked at me, then looked at the pit, then back at me.

Why is there a radiation pit in the middle of a park? I didn't like the way she called it our park, but I had more important things to focus on. I don't know, I responded, untying the tarp from the trees around the pit. That's what I'm here to find out. We have to cover the pit with a new tarp every Friday. since it manages to eat through them in the span of a week or so.

One time we forgot. Reed, Gordon was on holiday, and a bunch of koalas got into it. It's always bad news when something living gets in there, because they don't come out the same. That's how the drop bears came out, the little buggers. Luckily, they were the only animals that have managed to get in on our watch. Actually, scratched that. There was that one time that Sydney threw in a red-black spider,

one of Australia's deadliest, in a heroic attempt to create a real-life Spider-Man. Needless to say, it didn't end as she hoped it would, but for a sentient six-foot-tall red-black, Roger is actually pretty chill. Anyway, I ended the tarp and whipped it away from the pit before it could fall inside and be eaten. Hesidently, with a single bead of sweat rolling down a forehead,

Lizzie peaked over the steep drop in dusty earth. The hole was absurdly. dark for its relatively small depth. Even in the middle of the day, any light that managed to fall in there vanished without a trace, leaving only a void of nothingness that compels you to fill it with

something. I've seen people tried to throw themselves in there just to fill that void. The darkness ended about 20 metres down in a writhing mass of green tubes, which exuded a weak neon light that stood no chance

against the darkness. I knew that, as she leaned over the edge, the tubes would turn to her, with remarkably pitiful expressions for hollow, translucent masses, with no faces or discernible features. She stuck out her lower lip. Aw, they look so sad. I almost recommended she'd go down and help them, but remembered what the boss had said. Besides, if she went down there alive, who knows what would come back out again. So instead, I just said. I've seen them stripped flesh from bone, and she turned away from them, making a face.

Why are we here? she asked, because I don't think we should be anywhere near that thing without hazard suits on. I didn't want to tell her about the post I made or any of my true intentions, in case she tattled on me and I got my tongue ripped out. I'm bored, I said instead. She looked at me sideways. There have got to be better ways of entertaining yourself than getting radiation poisoning. Oh, I don't think it's actually radioactive. Just live, probably, I said to comfort her. But from the distressed look on her face, I guessed it didn't work.

Besides, I continued, if you had brought any books with you, then I wouldn't have to find any way to entertain myself. She scowled. We'd had this argument before. Considering she brought literally three cars up here with her, even if she didn't know it, and considering just how much of a nerd she looked like with her uptight expression and neat uniform, I find it ridiculous that she brought not a single buck with her to hold me over until her next supplies drop. I had finished my last one a few days before at that point,

and there's really not much else to do out here a lot of the time, especially when Gordon takes a special delight in giving me the boring work. We came up here to help people and our planet, she said tersely, not read. I didn't tell her that none of us were here for that reason except for her. Oh, actually, that reminds me. You know the cars that she brought up with her? There were three of them, all identical. Sure, to become a problem at some point is she kept dying and showing up again without her memories.

Well, they're gone now. Just the day after my first post, I looked out to check the parking room. and boom, they're gone. The tie tracks lead out to the foliage, even though all the trees and undergrowth should have made passage in such a large vehicle impossible. I didn't investigate further. If people want to drive out into the brush without proper gear,

well then, it's their bloody funeral. Not that they'll be getting a funeral, of course. Just a nice new meal for the pit. Anyway, we spent an hour or so poking around the pit. Now that I was out there I really didn't know what I was looking for Lizzie began taking notes She takes a lot of notes

But this time I actually appreciated it Because I'm pretty sure that's what you're supposed to do When you're investigating things I tried sparing one of the tubes on a long stick With a sharpened end It led out a wheezy death cry Then lost its glow And the tubes around it immediately turned on its corpse

They savaged it and it was gone within a few milliseconds. Then they turned on the stick, swarming up it in waves in an attempt to reach my hand and the freedom beyond. I shook them off. Lizzie suggested taking photos, but I told her she should never take photos out here. It's not safe. I think she thought I was just trying to be contrary, because she didn't speak to me again until we left.

When we got back to the main camp, Lizzie split off to head to a cabin and get cleaned off. I continued on to the souvenir shop to laugh at Sydney's boredom, since she had become forced to man the desk while I took care of Lizzie. When I arrived though, I was mildly put off to find that her day had probably been far less boring than my own. She was engaged in a battle with a flock of rabid magpies who flew about the small wooden shop in a cloud, bumping over shells and into windows with the grace of a blind poodle. Now and then, one or a few would swoop at Sydney, claws poised at her eyes, but they would

always be beaten away in the last second. If you want my eyes, she shrieked, brandishing a toy didgerid do like a baseball bat. Then come and get em, you maggots! A coordinated team of five magpies chose that moat to swoop at her, and she managed to hit them all with a didgeridoo in one epic sweep. Then, using it like a moldron pestle, she ground their prone bodies under the floor below, smearing blood and guts and various other fluids into the half-rotted floorboards. It was pretty bloody, and there's really no other choice in swooping season.

I ducked into the shop and armed myself with two polished boomerang souvenirs, using the end of one to spear a bird that was swooping at me with an ear-piercing shriek. Seriously, why did they make the edges of these toy boomerangs so sharp? Within a few minutes, most of them were dead, and those that weren't had fled back, to their nest to plan the next offensive. We wiped down our weapons with toilet paper from the drop toilet outside and put them back on the shelves.

Most of the bird gore removed. So, I said, panting and wiping cuts from my eyes. How was your day? Ah, she groaned, ringing blood from her hair. So eventful, I didn't get a spare moment. Uh-huh, I said,

feeling annoyed. First we had to chase out Tony Abbott Because he kept leaving dead kitty parts Around the front driveway And scaring away the tourists Uh-huh I said again Feeling even more annoyed

And then Roger came by And we had to catch up He tried to rip me open And lay eggs in my gut But apparently he's found himself A cute boyfriend So that's nice She continued

Uh-huh And then these magpie showed up Of course It's swooping season It's always swooping season I sighed cursing my luck. Of course, the one day I'm off desk duty

is the day it becomes interesting. Is that all? I asked, somewhat defeated. Oh yeah, and then the old God tried to awaken again, and the boss had to whip out his tentacle. Kind of heart? That's my dad, I reminded her,

wondering how the day could get any worse. She didn't seem to repentant and Holmes decided to kill her before I remembered that she can't actually come back like Lizzie could, and, I would probably miss her if she was gone for good. So yeah, that was my day yesterday.

Pretty normal, all things considered. But I wanted to let you all know that I'm making an effort to look into things you want to know about. I'll ask the boss about the radiation pit next time we find a worthy sacrifice, so I can find out more, since he's been it longer than all of us. And since there was an interest in the comments,

I think next time I'll tell you the story of Ava and the birthday massacre. Until then. See ya. So, uh, I'm mad. For days, I put up with having nothing to read. Literally days were being bored out of my mind, shout up by Lizzie and humiliated by Sidney's content exploits.

But I put up with it, not just out of the goodness of my heart, but because I knew that Davo was going to be coming down on Thursday with a monthly supply drop, and I get some new reading material. Plot twist. It didn't. didn't happen. See, the park is a good few hours out of town, and before Lizzie, Gordon was the only one

with the driving license and no psychopathic tendencies while behind the wheel, looking at Sydney without one. Seeing as he doesn't have the time to take the drive every couple of weeks, that fell to Dave. Dave, or as we've come to call him, Davo, was the only local barmy enough to drive up here every month with some supplies, you know, food and whatnot. He's middle-aged, average height, white with a beer gut, a bit boggin, honestly, but kept the racism to a minimum, and was always nice enough to bring a few spare books for me whenever he came up. And now, of course, he's gone and gotten himself killed. It was the bunny-yip that got him, based on the, uh, specific region that was missing from his body.

The penis. The bunny-yip ate his penis. It's weird, because it's not part of the actual legend. haunt billabongs shore and eat unsuspecting humans to draw too near but there's nothing about them specifically aiming for there that's just our guy then again who am I to kinkshame still though we don't know why he went down to the billabong in the first place it was a good hours trek from where he left his car abandoned in the middle of the road the liebirds wouldn't have led him that far and definitely wouldn't have let the bunny up steal their meal and we can't imagine him going there by his own accord. His keys were still in the ignition, and he's a local.

Even if he doesn't know at all, he knows enough to stay the hell out of our bushland. Anyway, the government authorities in charge of the cover-up. It's always more thorough when it's a local, confiscated the supplies who was going to drop as evidence, including, of course, the books. The bloody guy couldn't wait long enough to deliver the books before he went on his little suicidal hike, and I've been fuming for days. Since the others have to eat and all that, the locals wrote a new guy into doing our deliveries. His name is James and his family have only just moved into town

so they didn't know just how dangerous the job would be. I want to feel bad for him, but I'll reserve my pity until I assess his book selection. Any John Green and I'll throw him to the prime ministers myself. He showed up on Sunday. We were expecting him. So, Lizzie convinced Gordon to convince the rest of us to throw him a little

welcome party in the souvenir shop. We set up the radio and dusted the shelves. We washed our uniforms and combed our hair. Ava had even put some lips to come Roger, the red back. But Gordon convinced that Lizzie wasn't ready for that yet. Despite having

been around for almost a week at that point, nothing strange had yet to happen while she was watching. I mean, except for those two times she died. But that doesn't really count. Point is, we've decided his best to ease her into it for as long as we can, and a six-foot-tall, sentient spider isn't the most subtle of peculiarities. James showed up at one in the Arvo, his eute pulling up, filled at the brim with canned goods that none of us liked.

I looked at him, sizing him up. East Asian heritage, long cheekbones and slick back hair. Tall too. Almost the same height as Gordon. who rushed out to guide him inside before the 2 a.m. son came out. That was where the rest of us greeted him. Hi, I said. Hey, he responded.

He had a Melbourne accent. What brings you here? I asked. He shrugged. I don't know. Seemed like a good job to ride through my gap year. You look about 25 years old, I responded. Gordon put his face in his hands. So, I guess that came off as rude.

Oops. James, unfazed, just shrugged. Yeah, he said. Well, sometimes gap years last longer than expected. Like a few years, or almost a decade. He shrugged again. You know how it is. I didn't know how it was.

I never went to school, but James seemed cool and I wanted to fit in, so I just nodded along. I changed my mind about him when I asked him about the books though. Apparently none of the locals had thought to clume in on that particular tradition, so he didn't bring any. He promised to bring some along next time, but I had already decided that I hated him and retreated from the conversation to glare at the distance behind the counter. The others all seemed to like him. Ava kept giggling at everything he said, wrapping a hair around a finger suggestively.

He was kind of cringe, I'll be on. honest, but none of us were going to point it out to her. She's just too nice. It's impossible to willingly upset her. Kind of makes it funny that she's the one of us with the highest kill count. Actually, it reminds me, I was going to tell you guys about that, wasn't I? I totally forgot. Here you go. So, this happened about two years ago. Ava had only just started working at the park, and was a hot new thing. Unlike Lizzie, who no one liked. likes because she is uptight and annoying and also maybe immortal. Ava was actually cool.

And we all wanted to spend as much time with her as possible, to the point that arguments over who would patrol with her would sometimes get pretty ugly. See, Ava is a free spirit. She has bushy red hair and wears a pointed witch hat and speaks in a dreamy tone like she's got her head in the clouds, and sometimes she steals teeth from bodies before we throw them into the pit and swallows them like panadol tablets. She's pretty badass.

She can also apparently talk to nature, which we all thought was BS, until one time she ran into the knot platybus, and it didn't eat her eyes and tongue, as it has a penchant for doing. Just gave her a weird sort of nod and then melted back into the bush, the spurs on its back legs glinting in the harsh sunlight. Before Ava came, one of the many odd routines that we had to keep up while working was preparing the birthday parties. Now, don't get the wrong idea. We don't actually let children at their parties appear. That would be messed up. But even though our no party's rule was very clear, the locals all knew enough to stay away regardless.

On the fourth of every month, we always found ourselves preparing a children's birthday party. Whose party? We never knew. We didn't even know why or on whose order we were doing it. It just happened. We'd wake up on the third. wake up on the third and know it was time to prepare, and what to prepare, and how to prepare. They were always fairly typical Aussie birthday parties, lambingtons, fairy bread, sausage rolls

and party pies, always either under or over-cut. Those store-bought cakes that every Aussie kid knows, you know, the ones from Coles, vanilla, chocolate or caramel, with lines of chocolate dribbled over the top. We never knew where any of it came from. Davo certainly never brought it with him, since we would have eaten it ourselves if he had. It all just showed up, and we all knew where it was. And then there were the parties themselves. The adults, they didn't really matter.

They were there, don't get me wrong, but there were background noise. The old white guy at the Barbie, for example, a retired mom handing out lolly bags. You could only see them out of the corner of your eyes, the real centrepiece of the occasion, was the children. It was never clear whose birthday it was, but it was always the same kids. We recognised them all, even if we couldn't describe them, and they never aged past that squishy state after five years old, but before ten, even as the years passed. When Ava's first birthday party rolled around, the children were enthralled with her.

They played with her hair, pulling it straight and watching it bounce back, and some of them stole a hat and busted around between them. Ava bought all of this with a calm half-smile, far more composed than I would have been. She's cool like that. It was, all in all, going pretty well. Things started to go downhill though, once the birthday cake came out. Usually, as I said before, we'd use one of those cool cakes for this part. Kids love them, and so did we.

If we had to throw a party every month, you can be sure we'd always help ourselves to a bit of the buffet. This time, though, we were surprised to find that Ava had something else in mind. See, when she'd learned that we were going to have a bunch of kids over, she was ecstatic. Ava loves kids, and she loves making them happy. So, instead of relying on the usual cake, she decided she'd do something to make this particular party. special. She baked her own. It was a marvel of a birthday cake. Three-tiered, the color of velvety mud, decorated with bright green leaves made of icing. It was a work of art, and the kids went insane over it. They practically trampled each other in an effort to get the first

slices, balancing them on napkins and poking each other with plastic forks. Needless to say, they were all very impressed, and as soon as the opportunity around, roast, Gordon went to retrieve his own slice. What's it made out of? He asked, digging his plastic fork into it, admiring its silky texture. Oh, you know, Ava hummed absently, smiling at the children's excitement. Just the usual, eggs, butter, flour, sugar, vanilla extract, a little bit of arsenic, some cocoa powder.

Gordon pours this loaded fork hovering centimeters from his mouth. Sorry, what was that last one? Coco powder? No, no, the, uh, the one before that. Oh, Asnick, it's my mother's recipe. Gordon nodded slowly, lowering his fork and studding this slice with a new weariness. Huh.

Then, the kid started dying. It was pretty ugly. You know, convulsions, crying, blood. coming out from a wide variety of arvices. I won't go into details, since the others all seem pretty upset. None of them had eaten any, but apparently,

watching dozens of small children die horribly inspires some pretty negative emotions. I don't know why. It meant more leftovers for me, after all, and I helped myself as they died. The cake was good. Ava's mother was onto something. The arsenic led it a nice, tangy aftertaste.

We didn't have any more birthday parties after that. And that's the story. But before you go, I've got one more thing to talk about. I promised I'd keep you all up to date with everything happening currently, so I should mention that something weird has been going on, like even weirder than normal. It's been a pretty nice break from the monotony, if I'm being honest. See, since my last post, I've been... Missing moments.

and that's not in the normal way, like with hot days. No, everyone else remembers, and they don't often last full days, just a few moments here and there, and when I come too, it's with the taste of ash in my tongue and black dirt under my fingernails, and it's been getting worse. I honestly think I lost a whole two days at one point. That's how long the other say I was gone for, at least.

That's why this update has been a longer time coming than the last But I haven't forgotten you all I'm just dealing with it It's just weird you know And I'm not used to the weird stuff around it actually affecting me That's all for now though I guess Sorry to leave on a bum a note It's probably nothing

It usually is See ya