Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S1 Ep4: Episode 4: The One with the Papua New Guinea Mud Men

Episode Date: November 19, 2020

In this episode we dare to venture into the unknown wilds of Papua New Guinea...

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We believe OCT scans are so important they're included with every standard eye exam. Book an eye exam at Spexavers.cavers.caps. Eye exams are provided by independent optometrists. Visit Spexsavers.com to learn more. Welcome to Dr. Creepin's dungeon. Exploration. It is said a person does not grow from the ground like a vine or a tree. One is not part of a plot of land.

Mankind has legs so it can wander. Tonight's tale of terrifying jungle exploration is the mudmen of Papua New Guinea, a wonderful four-part story by grotesque penguin, told here in its entirety. Now, as ever before we begin, A word of caution. Tonight's tale may contain strong language as well as descriptions of violence and horrific imagery.

If that sounds like your kind of thing, then let's begin. As I burst into the clearing of the dense jungle, I took a moment to take in my surroundings. Lush green vegetation, as far as the eye could see. Steam seeping through the massive trunks of the banyan trees as the midday sun began to dry up the rain that had let up just an hour ago. Here in Papua New Guinea, tropical rainstorms could start up in a matter of minutes. Then, just as quickly as they appear, they're gone, replaced by the scorching sun that will dry off your clothes in minutes.

My team and I moved to an especially large banyan tree at the centre of the clearing, and I began to scale it. It's been days since we embarked on our journey into the highlands, and I needed to find my bearings. One of the unique things about a banyan tree is the fact that it germinates new, plants in its crevices, causing younger trees to grow out of the sides, stretching across the trunk like a natural ladder of sorts, making it easy to climb. As I reached the top, I observe my surroundings, trying my best to make out landmarks and other possible vantage points. From what I could see, it appeared we were nearing the end of our trek, and the nearest village, Lima, was only a day's journey away. Just one more night, I said to reassure myself, we can do this.

I began to feel the fear begin to fade away as a small glimmer of hope found its way into my subconscious. That small glimmer was extinguished immediately upon hearing a sharp sound from nearby in the underbrush. Oh, God, I whispered under my breath. They're here. Shortly after graduating, I decided to take a few months to travel to the Pacific. Spending most of the time backpacking in the South Island of New Zealand, the Samoa Islands and Vanuatu. After countless months spent studying, attending classes and various part-time jobs, it was nice to just take the time to see the sights,

onto the long roads and plan life only one day at a time. There's something special about the Pacific Island nations. Each one unique in its own sort of way and new experiences can be discovered at every corner. Each people group from the Polynesian Māoris of New Zealand to the Melanesian Nivans of Vanuatu come from hospitable cultures of rich island history. Stories and legends pass down from generation to generation.

You could spend hours sitting in a pub or cafe hearing story after story from the locals and learn about hidden gems and secret locations only known by those who lived in the area that you would never find in a travel blog or website. It wasn't long before I heard about Papua New Guinea, a large island nation separated by the shallow tourist strait from the rest of the Australian continent.

I always thought New Guinea was in Africa, a fellow backpacker from North Dakota, whom I had met a few days ago in a hostel in Dunedin, New Zealand. Yeah, of course you did, muttered David, a Brit from Liverpool. You Americans don't know the geography of any country unless it borders the US of A, he said mockingly, switching to a deep southern hillbilly accent near the end just to piss Trevor off. Oh, shut off, you bloody wanker. Trevor shot back while tossing an empty water bottle in his chest. direction. The rest of us broke out in laughter at the interaction, including Stephen, an Indian

Fijian who was on a lengthy vacation from working IT for a large computer company in Toranga. Sasha, a native Kiwi from the North Island of New Zealand, and her newly read husband, Desmond, also from New Zealand, who was celebrating their honeymoon. Lastly, me. A graduated medical student from McMaster's University, he was dreading the days my funds run out and I had to inevitably return home to Ontario, Canada, to begin looking for a job in the medical field. Oh yeah, they call it the rising spirit of the Pacific, said the Norwegian tourist we'd met shortly after arriving in New Zealand.

We all sat together in a pub called the Crown and Badger, planning for the next few weeks for our trip. They have it all, he continued. Scuba diving, island retreats, hidden pools, Jungle trails, you name it. It wasn't long before we unanimously decided that was the final destination before we took off on our separate ways. Shortly after arriving in Port Moresby,

we asked the locals about local attractions to see if we could avoid some of the more crowded touristy locations. Scover diving was out of the question during this time of year because the waters were rough, stirring up silk from the bottom, making it impossible to see. None of us were feeling like hitting the resorts either. as we all learned along the way that they were almost always grossly overpriced. It wasn't long before one of the locals, a man named Solomon told us of the Highland region.

This location was not only home to hundreds of miles of island trails, but also many small hospitable villages whose locals upon their arrival would gladly accept us to spend a night with a hot meal in their Nakamal, the central hut in their village where the elders would meet. and it also doubled as a guest hut to any friendly tribesmen or foreigners who may be passing by. We all decided to take a trek through into the island's east, ending at Gorocha, and taking a private plane, owned by a family member of Solomon, to take us back to Port Moresby. We estimated this trip would take less than a week in total,

and we'd spend the remainder of the week relaxing on the beach at Port Moresby, drinking South Pacific export lager. Everyone seemed keen on this idea. Aside from David, who would rather have skipped the whole jungle trekking, just spent the week on the beach before returning to foggy London. But after arriving and hearing the stories of hidden pools, ancient ruins and breathtaking views, he eventually caved and decided to join us.

Our first day on the trail was mostly uneventful. Being so close to the city, we passed through several villages near the outskirts of the city's capital. The further we got from the city, the fewer and fewer vehicles we noticed. Most people travel by foot or on four-wheelers or dirt bikes. At the end of the day, we stopped at a small village right on the outskirts of the highlands that we were about to cross into. According to the GPS, said Stephen, looking down at his device,

this should be the last village before we entered the jungle. We should make camp here, I told the rest of the group. This is our last day in civilization. might as well enjoy it while it lasts. I spent the rest of the day double-checking my backpack to see if we had everything, exploring the village and buying some cliff bars and water bottles

from the local corner store. A small wooden hut with a thatched roof and an old Coca-Cola sign from the 70s out front. That time of year to be travelling through the Highlands, said the store owner, an elderly pup one woman with frizzy grey hair.

It goes to the rainy season, I asked her curiously. She paused slightly before answering. Yes, rain, she said, with a glassy look in her eyes. Rain brings mud. Mud brings trouble. Trouble brings pain. I nodded, only half listening.

We should be all right. We're not planning on spending too much time on the mountain side. I assured her. Far away from mudslides. She gave me a half smile and nodded her head. Then shuffled back inside. to resume fanning herself with a fan made out of dried leaves. As I walked outside,

I observed the rest of my friends interacting with the villagers. Trevor, being the gentle giant, had quickly become the centre of attention with the children. I all stood around him in a big circle, giggling and whispering to each other in their native time. Desmond walked out with a soccer ball tucked under his arm. He'd purchased it a while back and left it deflated in his backpack. Just in case if an emergency game of

footy, he always told us. As the two men began to initiate the game with the children, I saw Sasha sitting off to the side with some of the girls of the village. One of the girls brushed her long blonde hair with some kind of comb and began attempting to braid it. The other girls stood close by watching in wonder, as many of them had never seen foreigners this close before. They'd occasionally reach out and touch her, marveling at how different her hair was from their own. That's a good way to get head lice. David muttered, in his usual grumpy tone. Serious, David, Sasha said annoyedly.

I'm just saying, he said defensively. I've seen their bathrooms and have a single shampoo bottle in sight. Why don't you piss off then? She retorted in her thick, Kiwi accent. Go find somewhere else to sock and moan. David snorted and began to trudge off to the central hut where we were staying. I watched Stephen as he began to rig his camera drone to a car battery, borrowed from one of the villages.

Several men stood by and watched, marvelling at the sleek white miniature aircraft. A loud screech suddenly erupted from the skies, and an involuntary jolt shook my body. I looked up instinctively toward the source of the sound as I saw a dark-winged figure fly over my head. I ducked down low and watched as the cat-sized bat flapped its wings

and quickly returned to its perch in the trees. "'Bro, did you see the size of that thing?' asked Stephen, running up to get a better look. The flying rodent looked back at us with dark beady eyes. "'That's a Pacific Fruit bat,' he said in amazement. "'I've never seen them that big back in Fiji.' We all observed it for a few minutes, when the sound of a gunshot broke the silence. Sasha screamed in horror as the large bat fell screaming only a few feet from where she was sitting. The thin stream of blood splattered on her pant leg.

Desmond quickly ran to her side and began to console his screaming wife, as one of the men from the village casually walked up with a machete in hand and a rifle slung over his shoulder. He quickly ended the fruit bat suffering from a quick jab in between the shoulder blades, and the bat went rigid, then limp. He then knelt and picked it up and walked off shooting mere satisfied, rotten-toothed smile. Well played.

I chuckled. I had to admire the man's marksmanship, given the fact that the bat had to be at least 40 metres away from where he stood. The man then caught out to his friend sitting in the shade of the jungle canopy, which resulted in them cackling with laughter. Probably a joke at the traumatised foreigner's expense. That evening, under a red sky, we all sat with a few of the village elders, seated in a circle in the Nakhemal, where our sleeping bags and mattresses were set up for the night.

We chatted with them through a translator, one of the village girls who spoke English as they filled us in on their village's history. A coconut shell was passed round with a brownish liquid inside that resembled muddy water. Stephen reached out excitedly and took a sip, handing it to me. Try it, he urged excitedly. It's carver, ground up from a local route. Taking the shell gently from his hands, I took a small sip of the earthy drink. Carver was very popular in the islands of the Pacific. The effects were similar to a light sedative, relaxing the muscles and putting your mind at ease.

A lot of towns serve the drink in specialised Carver bars where people go to relax at the end of the day. I felt the effects a few minutes later, after the shell made its way across the table. As my muscles began to relax, I leaned back on one of the poles holding up the grass roof of the building and tuned into the story one of the elders were telling. Years ago, back before Papua New Guinea was discovered by Dutch sailors, a local tribe living in the highlands called the Azores were at war with a rival tribe. After facing mass genocide at their enemy's hands, the Osaurus were forced to flee into the river. There they waited in the mud while the rival tribe searched for them. For days after days they hid, while slowly one after the other, each villager drowned in the muddy river.

More afraid of the suffering that would be inflicted on them if they were caught by their rivals than they were of drowning. A few days later the enemy tribe reported the forms of mud-covered men rising from the muddy banks and trudging through the jungle. Thinking that the figures were spirits, they fled in fear back to their home village. For weeks the village was set upon by these mud men. Dozens of men, women and children disappearing after straying too far from their huts in the middle of the night, After seeking help from a local shaman, they held a special ceremony to ward off these spirits. Even to this day the Asaro River and its surrounding lands are avoided by travellers and farmers as the stories of the mudmen were passed on from generation to generation.

I felt a shudder as I remembered the words of the elderly shopkeeper from earlier on that day. Rain brings mud! Could this story be what the woman was referring to when she learned of our plans of crossing through the Asauri? territory. Mard brings trouble. It's so strange how a folk tale could still have such a strong effect on the local's imaginations even after all these years. Trouble brings pain. My attention was soon diverted to a group of women emerging from the smoking huts where our meals were being prepared. My stomach ground instinctively as the smell of meat was brought to my nostrils. Fish and rice placed at the table on banana leaves as the smell of

of freshly cooked meats began to fill the hut. David reached out to begin filling his leafy plant. Oh, it's about time, he said hungrily. I'm so hungry I'll settle for anything. The translator gently grabbed his hand before it could reach the food. No, sir, she said urgently. This food is not appropriate for honoured guests. David sat back confused and slightly irritated. Here's your food now, she said as one of the women walked up with a larger platter with a light sheet covering it and placed it before the six of us. Well, let's have it then, David said impatiently and lifted the sheet off of the plate.

To our collective horror, what greeted us was the familiar sight of claws and fangs and black wings that we'd seen earlier today. The fruit bag, in all its freshly cooked glory. Bloody hell, David shouted as he backed up from the furry cuisine before him. "'You've got to be joking,' Trevor laughed. I glanced at the elders seated at the table, each one wearing a serious yet puzzled expression. Stephen leaned in, speaking in a low voice. "'They are dead serious,' he said quietly.

"'The Papuan peoples. Culturally are extremely generous and hospitable. Food plays a central role as it represents generosity and prosperity and refusal of the food is considered an insult to the host. I looked at him in horror to see if he was joking, but his face was just as serious as the elders seated around us. A few tense moments passed before Desmond broke into a plight smile and told the translator to let the elders know

that they're extremely honoured to be served this man. He then gingerly reached out with his hand and began to tug at the left wing of the bat, as if it was a chicken wing. No, not like that, the translator said gently, like this. She reached out, pinching a tuft of fur from the bat's midsection, then twisted slightly, tearing a small chunk of meat from the rodent's carcass. Desmond gulped uncomfortably, then reached out and took off a chunk for himself. He slowly raised the piece of meat to his mouth, and nibbled it slowly. I saw him lurched slightly after chewing the stringy meat before catching himself.

off and swallowing quickly. He then smiled at the elders, nodding at them improvingly. They all smiled and began to resume their dinnertime conversation. Desmond then motioned for us to dig in, nudging David especially hard while whispering between clenched teeth. Remember, we're all in this together. As each of us began to pull at the meat by the tufts of fur, I did my best to pick away at the large furry rodent as best as I could.

Hmm, taste like chicken. Trevor jokes while gingerly picking a few loose hairs out of his mouth as inconspicuously as he could. In all honesty, fruit bat tastes exactly like it smells, and that smell is piss. Do you ever walk into a bathroom that smells so strong of urine you can taste it in your mouth? Well, yep, that's what fruit bat tastes like. But hey, carapidiem, right? Hey Ontario, come on down to BedmGM Casino and check out our newest exclusive. The Price is Right Fortune Pick. Don't miss out.

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BedMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with Eye Gaming Ontario. The next day we said our goodbyes to the friendly villages. Gifts were exchanged, each of us given small trinkets and bracelets to remember our time together. Desmond gave the soccer ball to the children before leaving, and most surprisingly, David was given a large necklace made from pink flowers. According to the translators, this was a gift only received by chiefs and heads of hunting parties. Of course, this immediately got to David's head as he began to refer to himself as Chief David for the remainder of the day. You look pretty and pink, said Sasha mockingly, really brings out your eyes. We didn't hear much from Chief David after that comment.

The rest of the day we made quick progress through the dense jungles of the Highlands. Each stretch of land looked like it came straight from a scene of an Indiana Jones movie. The land was rich with green vegetation, many trees bearing fruit such as mangoes and papaya. Or, as Trevor called it, forbidden fruit. after the effects it took on his bowels after overindulging on his first day. It was no wonder so many battles were fought over this land. This place was its very own garden of Eden. Stephen eventually activated his camera drone and began to fly it over the thick jungle canopy.

We all gathered around him, watching the screen of his phone, as he flew it at least a hundred metres above us. I'm pretty sure that's cheating, said Trevor jokingly as the Isaro River came into view. It should be about a day's journey before we reach the river, Stephen said, ignoring Trevor's comment. Looks like a rainstorm's approaching. Oh, great, mind David. And here we could have spent this last week on the beach and the sun, but no, we had to get ourselves trapped in a tropical rainstorm in the middle of a jungle. That night, as we slept under the cover of camping tops and to lean to, Desmond and I sat together.

I sat and watched as the rain poured down heavy sheets like a water. waterfall. Lightning flashed across the sky and the thunder boomed, shaking everyone out of sleep from time to time. Sasha lied next to Des, her head resting on his shoulder, as he held her close trying to keep her as dry as possible in the rainstorm. David sat closest to the center of the top, sleeping like a rock. Possibly the only one who managed to keep dry is Trevor's bulky frame, like shivering next to him, half of his body exposed to the rain. Stephen sat next to me in the leaned to, playing an iPhone game, obviously having just as hard a time getting to sleep as I was. As the lightning lit up the night sky, and the rain poured around us, the woman's words once again

rang out in my mind. Rain brings mud. I watched as I thought I saw a few pair of glimmering eyes in the trees above us. I shone my flashlight in their direction. Mud brings trouble. As my light shone into the trees, I was greeted by the side of half a dozen fruit bats, all staring at us down below with their unblinkingly beady eyes. Trouble brings pain. When we awoke the next day, packing up our camp and setting off in the direction of the river, we were greeted by a dense mist as the sun began to dry up the rainwater from the night before. It's almost as if it's still night time, I said to no one in particular.

"'Yeah, well, welcome to every other day in London,' said David sarcastically. Stephen cursed as he looked down at his screen. "'I'm not getting a signal over here. Must be out of range of the nearest silt-up.' "'Well, looks like we have no choice but to rely on good old-fashioned compass and Matt,' said Trevor, ever the optimist. As we made our way through the jungle, eventually we could hear the sound of water running. "'We should be getting close to the river,' I caught back to the rest of the group.

as I let the way. As soon as we make it to the river, we should be able to follow it upstream until we reach our destination. Upon reaching the river, we retrieved our water bowls from our backpacks and began to filter water using Stephen's water filter. I'll be right back, Trevor called as he began to make his way up the river. Nature calls. Oh, for the love of God, please don't do whatever you're planning to do upstream, Sasha moaned. After a few seconds, we were all done. We were all jolted to our feet as Trevor shouted out in terror. Dess and I got to our feet and dashed up to where Trevor stood,

struggling to pull his pants up while facing the waterbank. What happened? I asked. Trevor stumbled over his words and pointed to the riverbank. There, like the remains of a decomposing human body, half submerged in the river, its arms and torso resting limply on the riverbank, while the legs floated lazily in the watercline. current. I swore as the realization suddenly hit me of what I was looking at.

Sasha, don't come over here, Des yelled over his shoulders. Sasha, ignoring him, walked over and looked at the body, her already fair skin growing even paler than before. We all sat there for a good few minutes before anyone said anything. Could have been an accident, I said. The hunter who lost his footing and drowned in the river. There's no way this was an accident. Stephen said, taking a few steps closer to the body. Those marks on his back look like he was attacked by something. Maybe rather than playing CSI New Guinea, we should get out of here,

David said, urgently. We can't just leave him here like this, Des said, moving to the body. Leave it, urged Sasha. I can't believe it, but I'm actually with David on this one. He's right. We can notify the island. authorities once we get to civilization. Come on, those Des to Stephen while grabbing one of the arms. Let's get him out of the river. And just as Stephen knelt to grab the other arm, I noticed movement

in the water, just a meter or so away from the body. Des, move, I shouted, as I dove forward, grabbing the man by the front of his rain jacket and pulling him back from the lake bed as a large snout burst from the water. His jaws clamped shut just inches away from where we're we were just standing milliseconds ago. Crocodile, Stephen shouted, and he ran to Desmond's other side and helped him to his feet.

Together, the three of us pulled our stunned friend to safety as the angry crock looked at us hungrily for a few moments before snapping onto the dead man's arm and dragging him into the river. I owe you one mate, Dez said,

clapping a hand on my shoulder. I didn't even see him coming. God, a few milliseconds and I could have been him. He said, pointing to the corpse, whom the large reptile held in his jaws as he began his death roll in the shallows of the water, kicking up mud and silt, obscuring the gruesome sight. I never knew saltwater crocodiles could be found this far out from the sea, Stephen said in astonishment. Well, we know now, I said grimly. That night, as we made camp a fair distance from the river, as to prevent running into another scaly killing machine,

I talked to Stephen in hush tones. There's something I noticed about the body before the crocodile dragged it away. He said to me quietly, those wounds in his back couldn't have been from a crocodile. I know, I said. I think we all know, but some of us are just too afraid to admit it. My mind thought back to the wounds on the man's back.

Five deep gouges right in between his shoulder blades, almost like a five-pronged spear. my mind flashed back to the villager stabbing the fallen bat with his machete in the same spot the sickening crunch the wings growing ridged then dropping lifelessly to its sides the light leaving its eyes as it drew its last breath the next day we moved onward deeper into the highlands as we began to make our way through the mist i couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching me you know that six cents you sometimes have the hair-pressed prickling on the back of your neck, a shiver running through your body, your heart beginning to pick up its pace? Yep, that feeling. We grew silent as a sound in the distance could be heard. Skylar, did you hear that? asked David in a hush tone.

Yeah, I'm glad I'm not the only one, I responded. I heard it last night, too. There's something out there, and whatever it is, it's making that sound. We heard it again as David shut his mouth and we began to continue down the trail. That night I awoke to a prickling sensation on my left cheek just below my eye. Opening my eyes carefully, I suddenly felt hundreds of little legs clamped down on my cheek almost defensively. I slowly looked down, trying my best to not move any of my facial muscles, as I caught sight of what appeared to be too large antennae feeling around cautiously along the edges of my eyelashes.

It was then I suddenly realized what my uninvited guest was. A Goliath centipede at least eight inches long sat from my cheekbone to my jawline. I remember first hearing about these things when researching the local wildlife from the flight over here. A fully grown Goliath centipede grew up to 12 inches in length, so large that it could prey on large reptiles and birds twice its size. It also had a venomous bite that, although not lethal, hurt so much that there were stories from the locals about the pain being so severe and excruciating that people had attempted to cut off the very limb that was bidden

just to be relieved from the pain. And then here one was sitting right on my face, its pincers only inches away from my eye. I stood still for several seconds as I eventually worked up the courage to slowly raise my hand to swat it off my face as fast and as accurately as I could. I had one shot at this. If I wasn't able to swat it off in one way,

one quick strike, and I could potentially be dealing with one of the most painful bites in my life, right in one of the most delicate areas of my body. I eventually drew in one last breath, and struck out as hard as I could, swatting the giant arachnid off my exposed face, then proceeded to beat down on the writhing creature with a cooking pot until it no longer moved. I stared at the crush remains for a long time. Needless to say, I never slept for the rest of the night. My eyes searching the darkness for movements I thought I could only see out of the corner of my eye, making that infernal clicking noise over and over again, periodically as the night went on. The next day, much to our horror, we were greeted by the sight of dozens

of muddy footprints surrounding our camp. Some of them close enough to reveal the perpetrators were standing right above us as we slept during that night, without any of us noticing. Muddy handprints also surrounded the campsites on the lower part of trees, on our tops and, worst of all, some on our very own sleeping bags that we were sleeping in that night. Something or someone was with us last night, and I'm almost certain their intentions were not to check up on our well-being. After packing up our camp, we began our journey once again, making sure not to stray too far from our group. It was a while since the last rainfall, so the fog was gradually beginning to lift. Stephen took the opportunity to fly his drone once again, to try and get a look at our surroundings and possibly get our first glimpse of what was following us in the mist.

As the drone flew over the treetops, Stephen caught us over as we all gathered around the screen. I saw movement over here, he said, pointing to a spot on the screen. I'm going to get a closer look. As the drone got closer and closer to what appeared to be a human figure standing on the bank of the river, it became clear what exactly we were looking at. An effigy of a human held up by a pike. Its body made up from several branches and straw. River reeds weaved around it, holding it together.

The head was that of an animal skull. Upon closer investigation, it appeared to be that of a wild boar, its large tusks giving it away. whoever made that must be from the same group who've been stalking us I said I don't understand said Stephen the figure I saw was moving this isn't what my camera picked up

he was cut off as suddenly the drone spiraled out of control and fell to the ground almost as if it was swatted out of the air wait where did that even come from he stammered we watched the last few seconds of footage

from the broken lens as a pair of feet came into the frame. Human feet, bare and covered in dried grey mud. We watched in curiosity as the feet began to approach the fallen drum. It stepped so silent not even the sound of broken twigs and leaves could be heard crunching beneath them. It's so quiet, I muttered. It's no wonder we can never hear them approaching.

Maybe the mic was damaged in the crash, Stephen said, his voice containing the slightest hint of skepticism. No living thing could move that silently. My heart raced when the familiar clacking sound was then picked up from the phone speakers. Why does it keep making that noise? asked Sasha, fearfully. Just then we heard it again. This time it wasn't from the live feet. It sounded like it was only several feet away from where we were standing.

We all turned to its direction. I could have sworn I could see a figure shrouded by mist staring at it. are moving as still as a corpse. The clacking sound then sounded again, this time to our right, then one last time directly behind us. They're communicating with each other, I said as the realisation hit me like a ton of bricks. It's their language.

I took the first watch that night with Trevor. In my hands I held a makeshift spear I carved using my leatherman, a gift from my father as a graduation present. I thought back to all of those survival camping tricks we'd gone on together, all of the knowledge she'd passed on to me of what to do in every outdoor circumstance, everything from how to find true north to crafting your hunting gear. There weren't many options given our circumstances and the short time we had, no time to carve a bow.

The most I could do was sharpen a few long sticks, burn the tips with my lighter to harden them, creating makeshift spears. I also managed to wedge a disc-shaped stone in between a sturdy fort branch, creating a club. Given his size and build, Trevor was the only one strong enough to swing the club with some efficiency. He sat with it across his legs as he monitored our dark surroundings. Oh, I wish my father were here now, I thought to myself. He'd know what to do in this situation. He'd be able to make sense of this whole thing.

I stopped and then went back on that thought. Woody, though, I mean, could anyone make sense of this situation? Could anyone be prepared for what might happen next? Look, I heard Trevor say between clenched teeth. He then motioned with his head in the direction of what appeared to be the outline of a human in the mist. The figure was crouched low, moving slowly and carefully, its figure thin and emaciated, its arms outstretched at shoulder length, its fingers are naturally long and pointed.

The most unnerving thing about its appearance was its oversized head. It appeared to be twice the size of that of a normal human head. It moved silently, making no natural sounds as it moved. No sound of breathing, or even the slightest sound of footsteps could be heard from it. Now I stand by Stephen's original statement, no living being could be this quiet. This had to be something beyond our understanding, came the sound from somewhere out of sight.

The one in front of us froze a few seconds. To our surprise, it responded by rapidly snapping its long pointed fingers together in quick succession, creating that mysterious clacking noise we'd been hearing all day. After several exchanges back and forth between the solitary figure and his friends deeper in the mist, the lone figure began moving backward. His focus never leaving our direction. Before we knew it, we were at. alone once again. Or he liked to think we were. The next day being the clearest day we'd had

since reaching the Asara River, we immediately set off moving at a jogging pace, sometimes sprinting to try and put as much distance between us and our pursuers. Stop, please stop, Sasha Corp from behind us. Let's take ten, I yelled to David and Trevor, who were just a few paces in front of me. We all stopped and began to catch our breath. "'Look at this,' Stephen said, handing me his iPhone. What he showed me was a loop of the drone footage in slow motion, right when the drone was struck down. From what I could see was a blurry image of what appeared to be the thing's faces.

My heart began to race as I zoomed in to get a better look. His eyes appeared to be hollow, containing no eyeballs in its empty sockets, much like a human skull. It also appeared to have exaggerated facial features as well. His skin, a pale grey, just like the feet we'd seen before. That can't be his real face, I said after watching the loop several times and handing the screen band to him.

It has to be some kind of tribal face mask, Stephen said. It bears a similar resemblance to the ones worn in Fiji during ceremonies, worn by our ancestors. And that body paint must be used as some sort of camouflage, my added. It did its job, considering they were nearly invisible in the mist. Perhaps that's why they seemed to never stray too far out of it, almost out of fear of being spotted. Come on, David caught out patiently. If we sit around much longer, we'll be joining our friend on the riverbank. He had a point.

The more time we wasted, the less distance we put between us and the hunters. And the events that followed, what brought me to the top of the Banyan tree, I mentioned before. Skyler! I heard the others call from down below. Get down here! They're coming! It was then that I noticed that within a few minutes of me being up there,

the mist was already beginning to seep from the damp earth as the sun began to dry the previous rainfall. I hurriedly began to make my way down the tree, careful not to let my feet slip on its damp surface. As I looked down to search for the rest of the team, I realised that the mist had now become come so thick, I couldn't even see the ground.

Trevor, Des, David, I called, trying my best to keep my voice low. No one answered. Is it possible they were forced to take off before I was able to make it down? I thought to myself, maybe they just can't hear me over the jungle ambience. It was then that I caught sight of Trevor. The large man crouched behind one of the many trees near the bottom of the Banyan tree. He waved his arm in my direction. I signalled back to him, acknowledging that I could see him.

I then held my palms up as the universal sign for, What the heck is going on? He responded by pointing in the direction of what appeared to be two unconscious figures being dragged off into the mist. Sasha and Des, I knew it was then because I noticed Sasha's long blonde hair from where I stood. I watched in horror as my two friends were. being dragged off by two grey figures until they were completely out of sight.

My thoughts immediately went back to the whereabouts of the rest of the team. But they'd been captured as well. Were Trevor and I the only ones left? My next thought was where the rest of the hunters were, and if there were more of them searching for the remaining members of our group. As I began to continue down the enormous massive tangled branches, I felt my foot slip slightly at an unusually slippery branch. As I reached out to catch myself, I noticed the familiar sight of a human handprint right above my hand, a grey handprint.

I turned around just in time to come face to face with one of them. He stood there only a few feet away from where I held on. Its body was unnaturally still, its masked expression as sombre as its empty eyes. I instinctively jumped back as its long clawed hand reached out to claw at me. Several of the long fingers cutting into my shirt as I felt my feet slip off the edge of the branch. As I watched the world spiral out of control, I felt the impact from one of the lower branches catch me in the shoulder, the next one in my midsection, and the final in the side of my head as I blacked out. The last thing I remember was the sight of two pale grey bare feet slowly approaching me as my world slipped away into dark.

into darkness. As I woke up grogly, I felt as of every bone in my body was broken. It was dark, yet from where I was sitting I could see several figures standing in front of me. As my vision cleared, I immediately recognized several of the crouched figures like the ones who had hunted us. I cursed loudly and tried to stand to my feet, as I felt the coarse ropes burn into my wrists as I tried to struggle to my feet. I winced in pain and looked up at my hands tied firmly above my head, to a wooden pillar. I looked up just in time to catch a glimpse of what was making the noise. I observed the one standing closer to me, clenching its clawed hands, so its claws clacked together, creating that clicking sound we've been hearing over the past few days. The one next to it

replied by repeating the same motion, this time in a different sequence. It was then that I realized that their hands were not claws, like I'd originally speculated. Attached to each of their fingers were long pieces of bamboo, sharpened to points on every tip of their fingers, almost like a gauntlet of sorts. Their skin was also covered from head to toe in greyish clay, even their exaggerated masks with the ever-so grotesque facial features seemed to be coated in a layer of clay. It was no wonder they blended in so well in the surrounding fog. They almost looked like ghosts from a distance. Aside from their masks, they wore no clothes and their feet were bare. turns out the legends of the so-called mudmen were not myths after all

as night fell i witnessed many more mudmen appear from out of the fog over the past few hours i concluded that we were standing at the edge of the river near a small ford in one of the wider parts all around me stood those straw men decorated with the skulls of multiple animals such as crocodiles, boars birds and monkeys Also, to my slight amusement, I noticed the half-destroyed drone sitting on the shoulders of one of the straw figures as well. Didn't take long to realise that each of the many straw men had their skeletal head's turn to face me and the other two wooden pillars. My heart began to race as I suddenly realized that this was no holding centre for trespasses.

The onlookers were not here to observe their captives. They were here to attend a ritual. I noticed to my left and right lay Desmond and Sasha, also tied to their respective poles. I then realized to my horror what exactly the commotion was about, as I was approached by two especially frail-looking mudmen. Judging from what I could see of them in the dim moonlight, they were women. One carried a blade, and the other a man-made bowl of a greyish substance, that I soon realized was the very same mud that they were covered in themselves.

They stripped us of our clothes, and covered every end. area of our body with a viscous sludge. Burned my eyes and the smell of it was worse than anything I'd ever smelt in my life. It smelled like a mixture of rotting flesh and chemicals, and it stung as it began to dry over my exposed flesh. After waiting for about an hour or so for the mud to dry, one of the mudmen began to slowly clack its clawed bamboo gauntlet in a slow, rhythmic fashion. Clack, clap, clap, clap, clack.

Soon more and more of them began to join in in almost perfect unison, as if it were a non-verbal chant. The noise began to pick up in pace as two of the larger members of the tribe suddenly began to move forward in Sasha's direction. She screamed in terror, tugging violently against her restraints. Even in the pale moonlight, I could see her wrist begin to bleed as the skin was torn from the vicious young. The horrid screams intensified as they reached her position and began to cut her restraints. Whatever they had planned for us, she was the first. Get away from her! I heard Desmond shout as he suddenly darted forward from his seated position with surprising speed.

He thrust his arm forward upon reaching the two figures with what appeared to be his trusty Swiss army knife and sliced it into the arm of the first figure. The mudman jumped back, taking a defensive position, with its clawed hands held up at chest length like a boxer. A thin strand of dark blood began to seep from a deep gash in its forearm with a blade had struck. The second one was unable to react as fast as its counterpart, turning just in time to catch the knife upwards, right below its jaw, oh God, hold on, right below its bottom jaw into its jugular.

The thing fell to the ground, thrashing and twitching like a snake with his head. his head cut off, as Des began to grapple with the second one. I watched in horror as the soundless being eventually lay still, not even making the slightest noise, as the almost black blood drained from its main artery, slowly, almost syrupy. I drew my attention back to Des, who once again gained the upper hand on the second mudman. He knelt with one knee on the chest of the fallen figure, suddenly reaching down to grasp it by the head, sinking both of his thumbs into its eye sockets, ignoring the thing's claws digging into his forearms, trying desperately to pry the enraged man's hands from his face.

Dark liquid began to pool behind the thing's head, as its thrashing also began to slow down, just as the other one did before. This one also not uttering a single sound. Dez quickly stood to his feet and limped over to Sasha, kissing her on the forehead and holding a face in his hands. "'It's going to be okay, baby,' he said, his voice shaking from the adrenaline. We're going to make it out, just. His voice was cut short as one of the mud men rushed him from behind and sunk its claws deep into his back, his pointed bamboo

fingertips sticking slightly out of the front of Desmond's chest. He let out a small, strangled gasp as he looked me in the eyes in horror, and then back to Sasha. She screamed in agony at the sight of her newlywed husband's knees. The claw then pulled its clawed hand free and tossed the dying man to the side. I watched as the last few agonizing breaths escape my friend's lips. He looked me straight in the eyes until suddenly the light drained from them. He fell silent. The clacking chant intensified as Sasha was then dragged by two of the figures holding her by her arms. She was conscious, but it appeared that she seemed to be in a state of shock upon witnessing her husband's death. She was brought to the center of the shallow river.

his edge and the figures on either side of her were forcing her to a kneeling position the mud up to her hips They then walked back slowly to the river bank as the charm began to suddenly pick up to a rapid succession Until every noise of the jungle was drowned out by their noise Then just as quickly as they started They all stopped standing as still as the three corpses lying in front of me I stood and watched Sasha's trembling form I looked around desperately for some sharp object I could use to cut my restraints so that I could save her, but there was nothing in reach.

Suddenly something caught my eye in the foggy river. Something moved in the distance from out of sight in the fog. Something large. Something very large. The still waters began to churn as large ripples began to spread out from something rising out of the center of the river, its figure towering even the tallest trees. I don't know if my vision was obstructed by the mist, or if my mind could simply not comprehend what I was seeing with my own eyes. Its long, bloated body slowly rose from the muddy riverbed.

It appeared long and serpent-like, but the way it stretched and dragged its gargantuan bulk eerily reminded me of a massive worm. The mud slowly began to slide from its body, falling from its slimy head in giant clumps. Just then two pincer-like jaws slowly slid from the front of the giant beast's head. His tip sharp and jagged like the claws of a crab. The dark figure slowly leaned in forward to observe the shaking clay-covered figure sitting before it. I could hear muffled sobs escape her lips as she was suddenly shaken out of her haze. Suddenly, a now clicking sound escape from what appeared to be the creature's pincers

in a manner similar to the way the mudmen communicated. A disturbing thought crossed my mind. Was this thing somehow communicating to its human subjects? The Glacken then slowed down to a stop as it began to lean forward its jagged pincers, closer to my friend's position. Suddenly the wind picked up as I saw the creature in its full form. I looked away in horror as I briefly took in what exactly I had witnessed. Its mud-covered flesh was slick and smooth, almost like an amphibian.

It's colour as dark and grey as the mud covering my very own flesh. Every inch of the creature's body was covered in pore-like holes, spaced only inches apart like some kind of tripophobic nightmare. I forced myself to look away. The very sight almost hurt on a physical level to look at, even for a few seconds. In the centre of its head was an endless pit, with jagged teeth lining the sights, similar to the Sarac pit from Return of the Jedi.

In the very centre was the source of the clacking sounds. I squeed my eyes shut, trying to forget the image, as I heard Sasha's last screams, as whatever happened to her took place only several metres from where I lay. I couldn't even imagine the pain my friend went through, and my mind began to race as I realised that I was next. Two figures who'd slaughtered my friend in cold blood and sacrificed the other began to approach me as the rest of the tribe. ran forward to the edge of the river. They began scooping up handfuls of slimy globs of the pale

grey clay, from which I realised was now oozing from the beast's paws. The same substance, I realized now covered every inch of my own flesh. I shuddered at the thought. I closed my eyes as the one with the blade now before me, reaching for my tired wrists. This is how it ends. This is how I die. I thought to myself as I imagined the creature's large pincers cutting into my flesh. Suddenly, I felt a cold liquid splash on my face and bare chest, as I heard what could have been mistaken for a ripe watermelon being smashed with a baseball bat. I open my eyes just in time to witness the twitching figure fall to my feet like a rag doll, as Trevor's bulky figure came into view, wielding the stone hammer I crafted for him just days ago. The second mudman

rolled expertly to the side as he swung at it aiming right for its torso. The mudman then crouched low like a predator ready to strike when suddenly a third figure came into view. David ran forward out of the underbrush, jamming a charcoal spear right into the mudman's back as the mad Brit pinned it to the ground while Trevor finished it off with one single crack to the skull with the hammer. I felt two hands reached behind me as Stephen began to vigorously cut into the bindings, setting me free. A bellowing moan then sounded from the center of the lake, as gusts of mist began to shoot out of the paws in the creature's flesh,

shrouding it almost instantly in a thick haze, as the tribe suddenly broke from their trance, staring at us almost as if in surprise. Time to go, said Trevor, as he began to pull me shakily to my feet, my mind finally switching into the fight or flight mode. given the fact that we were severely outnumbered, we decided on the latter. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me.

I barely felt the dozens of scratches and sharp rocks digging into my exposed skin, as I ran for what felt like hours, almost in complete darkness, as the mist became so thick I could barely see my friends in front of me. It took the others to practically restrain me, to get me to stop so they could stop and catch their breath. Where are the others? said Trevor, breathlessly. Gone, I said, shaking my head as the vivid memories of Sasha and Desmond's last moments began to come back like a horrible nightmare.

They're just gone. I watched as the others took in the news, and they stood in silent sorrow for a few minutes. And what was that thing? said Stephen. I just barely caught sight of it before he disappeared. I don't know, I said, as the image of the thing was already begun. coming harder and harder to remember, almost as if it were only a bad dream. And why the bloody hell are you naked? added David, as he tossed me a spare set of clothes from his backpack.

I almost mistook you for one of them. After I got dressed and drained an entire water canteen to quench my thirst, we continued our way to the outskirts of the Highlands. Our hearts racing as the familiar yet unwelcome sound of clacking began to be heard in the surrounding foliage. Then, out of nowhere, a sharp pain exploded from my right shoulder as I was jumped from behind. The madman, who I didn't even hear coming, had sunk its clawed bamboo gauntlet into my shoulder, then retracted its claw to begin to swipe again.

I fell onto my back and caught its clawed hand just inches away from my neck, and caught out to warn the others. I could hear them shouting and cursing as they too were ambushed moments after I walked. I desperately grasped with the tribesmen, crouched on top of me, trying as hard as I could to pry its clawed hand away from me. I could feel the bamboo tips painfully cutting into me as it slowly began to overpower me. Having the upper hand and all of his body weight behind it left me at a severe disadvantage. I then twisted its wrists with one quick motion, while simultaneously rolling to my side

as the bamboo tips dug deep into the muddy ground below me. I then struck it as hard as I could in the side of the masked head, right above the temple, causing it to split slightly. Suddenly, ignoring me entirely, the mudman began to clasp his hand over the cracked surface of the mask, almost like a diver covering up a leak in his oxygen mask. I saw this as an opening and tackled the struggling mudman, pinning him to the ground.

I reached under the mask with my finger, and began to pry upwards. Let's see what's under there, I said in anger, as the dry clay began to give way from the man's face. To my surprise, for the first time since we'd encountered the savage tribe, I heard what I understood to be a vocal protest.

The thing's scream didn't sound like it was in pain, more like a scream of pure terror. If taking the thing's mask off is what was causing the screams of panic, then that was exactly what you were. I was going to do. It was the least I could do for the suffering of my friends at the hands of these monsters. With one final pull, the mast suddenly broke off in a large chunk, revealing the face of my attacker. I jumped back as I looked upon the face of one of my assailants for the

first time. I looked in disgust at the same porous, slick, amphibious flesh as the giant river beast they served, large holes resembling those of an empty lotus pod. covered every inch of flesh on the man's face, down to his neck. I watched as they expanded and contracted with every breath like hundreds of small gills. There were even holes in the man's eyes. The creature lying at my feet, whom I no longer doubted was anything but human, lie still, breathing rapidly as what appeared to be long hair-like appendages slowly began to emerge from the paws in his flesh.

The tiny feelers began to latch on to the damaged areas, of the man's mask, pulling the pieces slowly back into place. I had to look away as the sight made me nauseous. I looked up to the others trudging toward my direction. Their bodies cut and torn from the bamboo claws of our assailants. Three other figures lied on the ground. Two I recognized by their mug-cake skin as mudmen, the third by the light brown skin tone of my friend Stephen.

I rushed to his side just to realize he was still alive. He clutched at his blood-soaked midsection. It's no use, he said with pain in his voice. He lifted his hands up to show the gaping wound. My stomach lurched, as I caught a glimpse of his insides exposed in the moonlight. Here, take this, he said, strained to reach inside his shirt pocket. His SD card from the drone, I was able to retrieve it after we rescued you. I took it carefully from his blood-stained hands.

Show it to the authorities, he said weakly, as his eyes began to droop shut, and his head became heavy in my arms. The world needs to know what happened. Do it for Desmond and Sasha. Do it for me. His voice trailed off as he drew his last breath and slowly went limp in my arms.

I felt the pain of regret in my chest as I once again watched one of my closest friends die right in front of me. I stood to my feet slowly, putting the small SD card in my pocket. From where the drone was positioned, it may have captured the whole ritual. Our only proof of everything that had happened to us over the past few days was now in my hands, and it was up to me to make sure the world would know the truth of what happened. I turned just in time to witness David, plunge his spear straight into the heart of the unmast mudman. That's for Desmond and Simon.

"'Masha,' he said with cold rage in his voice. "'Steven too,' I added. "'They both look to me and her fallen friend with heavy hearts. "'They won't take one more of us,' I said. "'We can't let them.' "'The other two surviving members nodded in agreement, "'and we continued through the jungle, "'leaving yet another one of our friends behind.

"'As we continued to run through the foliage, "'I couldn't help but notice the world didn't look right, almost as if I had vertico, a witness movement where there was none. The world gradually began to tilt and spin as I realized to my horror, that this wasn't just dehydration. The claws of those things must have been laced with some kind of poison. I looked at the others who also bore wounds from our last fight, and they also began to stumble, their pupils almost fully dilated.

Then, to make matters worse, I began to notice the familiar sound of clatternors. in the distance. They had found us again. The first party was only there to weaken us, now the rest were coming in for the kill. We ran as fast as we could, not even paying any attention to our surroundings or what direction we were heading, as long as we could run faster than our pursuers. Suddenly, I was sent tumbling as my bare foot hit a tree branch. As I threw my arms forward to catch myself, I noticed the skin on my arms begin to bubble as hundreds of small paws began to spread out across my flesh, the small hairs feeling around like thousands of

legs of a centipede. I screamed and began to desperately scratch at my forearms, only to realize my arm, although blooded and bruised, was not covered in holes. The poison was causing us to hallucinate. As I got back to my feet and ran, I looked up into the trees above me, as their branches appeared to move lazily like the tentacles of a jellyfish in an ocean current. White lights began to float around in my eyesight, always drifting to the corners of my vision as I tried to look directly at them. Suddenly, in the distance, stood the towering figure of the river monster I'd seen before, looming in the distance among the trees. Well, still to this day, I don't know if that was just another hallucination, or the giant being was actually watching us run for our lives. We're not going to be able to outrun them, Trevor said.

The only way we can escape is if we can travel down the river. He pointed to the fast-moving water only a few metres away from where we stood. My heart raced as I began to feel dread at the thought of what was inside that river. Soon the rational part of my brain took over, as I realised although it was risky it was the only way we were going to escape. Trevor and David ran up to a small pile of branches and leaves and began to uncover what appeared to be a small wooden canoe of sorts. "'We found there shortly after you were captured,' David explained.

"'I knew these were come in handy,' said Trevor, whose voice almost sounded like he was in a drunken stupor. Trevor bore the brunt of the wounds from our previous fight, so the poison from his wounds must have been affecting him more than myself and David. As we pushed the canoe to the bank of the river, the clacking sounds grew louder. To my horror, I could once again begin to see several figures moving from the mist in every direction. we aren't going to make it in time, I said to the two of them. I need to stay behind. Are you mad? David asked in astonishment.

They're going to kill you. I nodded grimly, acknowledging that I was aware that staying behind was a one-way trip. If the two of you traveled down the river, I should be able to hold them back long enough to give you two enough time to escape. I'm not going to let you do that, Skylar, David yelled. It's the only way I replied. as I bent down to retrieve our last spear that was lying at a semi-conscious Trevor's feet. Suddenly, I was struck from behind, sending me falling headlong into the canoe,

my mind spinning from the fresh blow to the back of the skull. David leaned in and pulled the spear out of my hands. If it's anyone who should be staying behind, it's me. I lost three friends today and I won't lose another, he said sternly. Before I could protest, he gave the canoe. knew one last shove as the current took us, and we began to speed down the river. David then turned around, spear in hand, to face the surrounding mist closing in on him. Go on then, have it at me, you tosser, he shouted as the mist soon shrouded my view from

witnessing his last step. I slump to the side and began to cry. I sobbed as all the fear, all the emotion I had repressed over the past few hours, suddenly hit me like a flood incapacitating me. It only been a few days ago we were all sat together in a hostel in New Zealand, having drinks and sharing stories of what brought us here on the trail. We talked for hours on end about our families and our lives in our homelands. We shared secrets and dreams and even our deepest regrets. Although we all had only spent a few weeks together, we'd become closer than friends. We were almost a dysfunctional family. We were almost a dysfunctional

of sorts. Traveling in a group has a way of bringing complete strangers together. When I was finally able to calm down, I noticed that the water began to pick up speed. As we were going faster, I witnessed hundreds of human hands begin to reach out into the water toward our boat. Upstream, I witnessed the towering figure in the distance, slowly pushing itself into our direction, not close enough to be in sight, but not far enough away to be. not be a threat. I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head in an attempt to clear the poison-influenced nightmare. The gargantuan beast was gone when I opened my eyes again. Just as I turned around, I caught a glimpse of a large rock just at the front of the canoe, hitting it head on,

causing Trevor and me to be tossed from our wooden refuge into the cold water of the Osoro River. My head broke the surface as I instinctively turned to face downstream, stretching my legs forward to to catch any upcoming rocks in my path, just like I was trained by my father to do. I searched desperately for the raft and Trevor, but neither of them was in sight. Just then I spotted the unconscious figure of Trevor, only a small distance away from me. I kicked and swam as hard as I could in his direction. As I got closer, hundreds of hands once again appeared from below the surface and began to hold me back from getting to him. I screamed out in anger and tried desperately to pry the hands from my body

as I looked on in horror, as more of them began to appear around Trevor and drag him under. Please let go of him, just let go of him, I begged, as little by little, more and more of Trevor's bulky frame began to disappear below the surface, just out of the reach of my outstretched arms. I watched as one final hand clasped over his mouth, and he was finally drawn. dragged below. I screamed and cursed as the hands once again disappeared as the poison began to wear off. I then gave up all hope and just let the river take me. The sounds of the rushing water and the sound of the jungle disappeared out of my head as I sank below the surface. Rain brings

Mardt. Mard brings trouble. Trouble brings pain. I heard the woman's voice in my head as I slowly drifted into unconsciousness. The first thing I felt as I awoke was the sun of my skin and the sound of jungle birds singing their strange yet beautiful songs. I sat up grogly from where I lay in the back of a wooden wagon being drawn by two large water buffalo. I looked around me to notice no sign of the jungle mist nor the sound of the rushing river. I almost forgot what it felt like to feel the sun on my face again.

I was then roused from my daydream by an elderly. elderly farmer who walked along the side of the cart, speaking rapidly in a language I couldn't understand. I looked at him confused, and put my hands up as the universal sign of, I have no idea what you're saying. He then called out to a young boy who was a little ways ahead. He ran to the old man's side, and they began to make a quick exchange in their dialect. The young boy then nodded and asked me, You speak English? I do, I said quickly. "'Where am I? Where are my friends?' The young boy took a moment to process what I'd asked,

and then translated the message to the older man. "'Goroka,' the child said. "'My grandfather told me you're the only one he found.' I set up quickly, wincing in pain. "'There were others. "'White fellas like me,' I said, "'white fallas being what the locals referred to as tourists. "'No others,' the boy repeated.

Just you lying by the river. We are bringing you to a hospital. I then gave up and lied on my back, painfully, closing my eyes once again. All of my friends were either missing or dead, I thought to myself as survivors' guilt began to settle in. I suddenly remembered Stephen's last words to me. The world needs to know.

I reached gently into my pocket and retrieved the small square SD card. A few weeks later, Later I sat in the small airport in Port Moresby, waiting for my flight to be announced. The local authorities were able to make a full report based on what I told them, and opened a full-on investigation into the missing tourists. The remains of Stephen, Sasha and Desmond were never discovered, and the whereabouts of Trevor and David were never found. And what the local offices told me, even if they did some escape, they wouldn't have survived longer than a day or two. The only reason I survived was that I was picked up and rescued by a local fisherman from the nearby village. I spent the better part of my recovery process in the hospital on my laptop that was returned to me from our hotel room,

documenting everything I could remember that happened to us over the last few days. And that brings me to where I am now, just about to upload this story online so that the deaths of my friends would not be forgotten. So when I've returned home, after my layover in Indonesia, I can upload the video online for the world to see, so people can realize that there are things in this world we can't even begin to understand. Creatures that are hidden from the public eye. I know that many who hear this story might not believe it from what I can describe in words, but the proof will be undeniable once I upload the video. Unfortunately, I don't have the bandwidth to upload the video.

where I am now, but I plan on uploading it as soon as I get off this plane. I'm ending this story now, as my flight, Indonesian Airlines Flight 307, has just been announced. Well, regardless of the weather conditions being foggier than normal, they plan on leaving within the hour. As I conclude this story, I leave you with this one final message. The world is not as small as we tend to think. There are still places and people left untouched by civilization, creatures and monsters hiding in the darkest recesses of the ever-so-shinking world of mystery that the world used to be.

Rest assured, though, the truth always comes out. Sometimes it's right away, and other times it's down the road. But understand, the truth always comes out. It's just a matter of time. Thank you again for joining me for this episode, of Dr. Creepin's dungeon. Tonight you listen to The Mudman of Papua New Guinea,

a wonderful story by Grotesque Penguin, kindly shared directly with me so I could read it here for you all. Until next time, a very sweet dream, and bye-bye.