It didn’t take too long for me to reach my destination. Just a measly seven hours of slow-paced walking to get a taste of the scenery. The reason for my turtle’s pace was because I felt that I was in grave danger when I ran in full stride, and if you hadn't noticed, I don’t have a fucking shell to hide in.

Every time I went somewhat fast enough, the hairs on my arms and at the back of my neck stood up as if to forewarn me of something. It was like my instincts were telling me not to make too much of a noise so that I wouldn’t attract any nearby predators' attention. I also made use of stealth tactics to evade my—who am I kidding? I basically hid behind trees and warily looked around like a country bumpkin on his first fieldtrip to the big city. In my defense, it's not just any old city though. It’s a city in Mexico called Los Cabos. Even just entering a motel there and talking to the receptionist will pump you a lifetime's worth of adrenaline than jumping out of a plane in the middle of a swamp filled with alligators. I’d highly recommend it to everyone to try it out at least once, because that’s all the chances you’re going to get after their done strangling you in the dead of night.

“What do you make of these?” I whispered while expecting to hear a clear and concise answer, but I forgot that my companion was a spider that’s only response was a staring contest. Speaking of which, where did the little guy went off to now? Oh, wait, I see him. He’s just over to the side a couple feet away, going in circles like a dog about to mark its territory.

There was a dozen or so people dressed in red robes and fancy jewelry. Almost all of them knelt on the ground in a circular formation around a gigantic pole with strange writings that was burning at its base. The only one who didn’t kneel had his hands held up high in the air and shouted words which I couldn’t understand. This was giving off a Call of Cthulhu vibe, but it’s a damn shame we weren’t anywhere near the ocean for a colossal octopus monster to pop up and preach of its amazing tentacles.

The earth drummed a beat, growing louder each second that passed by. I don’t know what’s making that heart-shaking sound, but I know for a fact that there's something coming. Something big because I felt it again, that oh-so familiar gnawing sense of dread. But that dread can gnaw all it wants because I’ve had worse things that gnawed on me before.

The world suddenly turned ominously dark. When I looked up to see what was going on, a kilometer in diameter black cloud in the sky encapsulated the area where we stood, blocking off the sun like the cuckold that it was. It seemed as though Picasso also shared the same sentiment of hiding under a rock. Wait, he’s literally lifting a rock and using it as an impromptu hat/helmet. Well, ain’t that cute.

“Run away?” Should I?

I laughed hysterically as I took in the lovecraftian scenery. On second thought, maybe I’ll stick around and see where this mess goes. Why? For reasons I can’t seem to comprehend about myself.

The winds picked up and howled fiercely, while devastating bolts of lightning rained upon the vicinity, striking trees and people in a chaos of white flashes. They didn’t seem to mind the danger that they were facing though, as they hadn’t moved an inch even under heaven’s rain of judgements. Remarkable. A true fanatic never doubts his beliefs, even when he has to restrain his own son onto a stone table just so he could stab him like the deranged fool that he is. That just shows how you’re stupid and gullible enough to sacrifice your own kin for the words of someone you haven’t even met face to face with. That obviously deserves a thumbs up. Two thumbs, even.

“What the—” I said, astonished at the sight before me. Those charred bodies got up and moved towards the pole with snappy and sporadic movements, like puppets played by a child with flimsy hands.

They didn’t stop until they got to the base, where they lied limp on the fire. If I didn’t know any better, it looked like they were adding fuel to the fire. Human-charcoal style.

The one who I assumed to be the leader of the cult, raised his voice loud enough to resonate in my ears. His words may be lost with the language barrier, but somehow, and I don’t know why, understood that he was welcoming something.

And then he got crushed to death.

The giant pole suddenly grew arms and squished him like a bug. What the fuck? Just— what the fuck?

Pulsating orange veins protruded from the wood’s surface, and it uprooted itself from the ground. Was this Tolkien’s work coming to life? By the way, what was it called again? An Ent or something? Maybe this is a different species because it’s man-made. This might be a twenty-first century Ent. With complementary cup holders and all.

It grew muscular, which is to say very graphic with its bulging muscles. Look at those amazingly shaped biceps and deltoids that a body builder would envy. I don’t even know how that’s possible because it’s dead wood that came out of a workshop, but I’ll go along with it for now.

After the transformation was over, it now looked like a wooden Greek God of war, but without a handsomely chiseled face, or a head and neck for that matter. There’re also those watermelon sized balls to go along with its swinging gargantuan dick. No homo, but I think it looked kind of hot. Both figuratively and literally of course, because it’s straight up on fire from shoulder to toe.

In the face of this perfect body of mass destruction, stood a lone arachnid obstructing its way from slaughtering the other cult fanatics. David vs. Goliath in the flesh. I think I even heard some of those fanatics curse for not getting killed right away. But forget about those suicidal masochists, I have a bigger problem.

“Picasso!?” I yelled. Leave them unsupervised for one minute and next thing you know, they have a bottle of bleach in their hands or outright trying to kill themselves from the hazards of your own home.

Kids these days grow up so fast.