Bogleech.com's 2016 Horror Write-off:
The Cemetery of Black Flies
We have been walking through these horrible wetlands for nearly a week now. We're in search of the source of a bizarre fog that carries sickness with it. A handful did not become bedridden and sick in our village, so some stayed to tend to the dying while we left to find help and hopefully stop the fog.
Our ancestors call this place 'Nohahokib-Ahsam' or the Cemetery of Black Flies. It's hundreds of miles of ancient trees, peat bogs and dense moss overgrowth. The pale orange fog is a ever present stench similar to a necrotic wound and sulfur. There are absolutely no signs of life out here, not even the sounds of birds or the bites from insects. The terrain switches eventually from swamp to prairie; so we decide to camp on the edge of the forest.
That evening, the light of the full moon falls upon a large hill that is far off in the distance from us. Like parts of the deep ocean, these stretches of grasslands are vast and baron, so naturally, we were rather excited to see anything that wasn't more grass or quicksand.
As we got closer to the hill, we heard what we thought was a huge flock of birds, clacking their beaks and chirping. The scent of necrosis or gangrene was so strong our eyes began burning. Without warning a huge hissing plume of orange fog erupted like a geyser from the hill...
Our small group of travelers abruptly stopped, and let out a collective gasp as our torches illuminated the horrifying sight. The hill was more of a mountain, comprised of millions of strange octopus like creatures ranging from the size of a fist to ones larger than a barn. Like spawning frogs, a thick & frothing sludge seeped from their skin as they violently thrashed around clicking their beaks excitedly.
The creatures didn't seem to even be aware of our presence, and continued their writhing mucus soaked orgy. The flames of our torches made their bodies glisten and shimmer as the thousands of tentacles intertwined with one another, sinuated and twitching.
All of us were awestruck by the disgusting beasts; their throbbing debauchery was oddly mesmerizing. Time simply stopped for us and we watched them violate each other for days before hunger pangs keeled us over.
We became increasingly aroused by it, and soon forget about our dying loved ones or why we'd originally come here. Finally caving in, we all disrobed to display the skeletal wreckage of our bodies, and soon we pleasured each other ceaselessly in the convulsing shadow of the hill. One by one, we started to loose the ability to blink, our eyes now constantly open, but we only cared about the depravity of our gelatinous soul mates. Soon they started singing us beautiful lullabies, all in unison like a choir...
Most of us were too weak from hunger at that point to stand up, but eventually some of us began to crawl on our stomachs towards the angelic music, all while the hill excitedly chirped and flailed thousands of tentacles as we lurched forward.
Entranced, we smiled and laughed, making jokes with each other while inching head first into our own personal holes in the hill. The openings closed and the mass of octopus like creatures began to crush us. We could hear something snaking in between the creatures squishy bodies, and suddenly dozens of long oily black tentacles hooked into our flesh and wormed inside our various orifices.
The claws tore and kneaded our flesh, the ones inside us turning our internal organs into a pulpy slush, yet we all moaned as it overwhelmed us with pleasure. Pleasure a thousand times more intense than sex or any drug.
We orgasmed hundreds of times. It was nirvana, a pure and bliss like state. Slowly, we were dragged through the slick rubbery bodies and into the center of this hill, this temple of hedonism. There is flash of orange light and we blacked out...
We all regain consciousness back inside our small village, and after a few confusing moments we realized we had woken up on the day before we originally left, some four weeks prior. Some how we'd been sent back in time...
We've discovered through trial and error that if we leave our village in search of the fog's source like originally, we'll eventually always find the Hill again... If we avoid leaving and stay in the village, the Hill comes to us eventually...
And we will succumb to it's promises, letting it devour us in exchange for the angelic pleasure of flaying us alive. We've lost track of the number of times we've selfishly chosen to repeat this masochistic cycle, frankly we've given up on escaping. None of us remember a life before the Hill. Not even our birth names remain.
The Gods... the Hill... they are punishing us for choosing our addiction and sexual perversions over the wellbeing of the family members and friends we swore to protect. We must be in hell, yet there's no other place I'd rather be.