Joel looked out of the window of his taxi cab at the houses on the outskirts of Zinnia City Bayou. The beat up homes and the old, abandoned plantations sat in the background, sorrowful remnants of a long-dead era of history. The otter looked back to the seat next to him where his leather messenger bag lied. His laptop was safely stowed away inside, and it was depressingly the most expensive thing he had seen in the last two hours, including the vehicle he was being transported in.
Joel returned his gaze to the outside of the window, the sights only solidifying his depression further. The dark, looming trees and the remnants of a bygone age of prosperity. He had never known that such a place existed so close to ZC, and it was the perfect place to get away from the hustle and bustle of the crowds. The otter had decided to take his vacation here, the dark catacombs of the swamp. He was an up and coming cultural anthropologist, having just his degree from Zinnia City College.
After doing extensive research on the various societal differences found just in the City alone, Joel made it something of a goal to find out about the lifestyles of various predators. His laptop was his handbook, and his mind was his greatest recording tool of all. The otter's eyes picked up on details that most don't even notice, like how the driver in front of him wasn't used to spend time with the likes of himself. He was a rather gruff, dark-furred skunk wearing overalls and keeping his mouth occupied with a toothpick. "We uh...don't get too much city folk 'round this far down, boy. What brings ya'?" He asked with a southern accent.
"...I'm trying to find people to talk to." He replied both bluntly and vaguely, ironically not really in the mood for conversation, at least with the skunk. Joel looked down back to his messenger bag's seat, covered in filthy stains. The otter couldn't wait to get out of the taxi cab.
'Talkin' to people? That seems like a big waste of a trip to come down here from Zinnia. You can find people everywhere!" The skunk driver replied to Joel with a hearty laugh. Just then, the more mt of the vehicle made a ding. "Here's yer damn stop, boy," he remarked, bringing the taxi cab to a halt. Joel handed him the fee before getting out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him. The otter threw his leather messenger bag over his shoulders as the taxi drove away, leaving him facing a modest, decent enough looking harbor with a fairly small wooden building near an array of rowboats.
The boats of the harbor laid on the murky, green waters of the Zinnia Bayou, the trees laying past in horizon seeming to go on and on forever. The swamp appeared to Joel as almost neverending, like all swamps. Nevertheless, he was here for a vacation from his work at ZCC, and he intended to make the most of it. The otter walked into the hut and saw three prey gathered around in the corner, huddled around an aging cash register just chatting amongst one another. He looked around the store and didn't see anything that would help him unwind, the store consisting of unkept aisles of fishing equipment and snacks. He walked up to the group, consisting of an elderly mouse, an exhausted rabbit in front of the register, and a lively pidgeon behind it.
"Hello, there!" Joel greeted warmly, waving a paw as he interrupted the idle chatter the trio were having. "I was wondering if there was anyplace to stay around here." The pigeon and the rabbit looked at each other, and then at the otter as if he had just escaped from a mental institute. The mouse shrugged and leaned his elbow down onto the counter, looking the newcomer dead in the eye.
"...Are you...you serious?" The old looking mouse asked with caution.
"Uhh...yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Joel responded with another question, starting to feel nervous.
The elderly mouse looked at the rabbit and pidgeon, who in turn looked away. "Well, sir, I take it you ain't from around here. Otherwise, you would have never come down here from ZC. There's a hotel about ten miles north of here if you want a place to stay. I can even pay for a taxi to pick ya' up."
"But...that's too far away, too close to the city!" Joel exclaimed, throwing up his hands in defense. "I came down here to get away from all that...that nonsense! Isn't there anyplace around here to stay?"
The old mouse gave out a sigh and shook his head sadly. "I'll be honest with ya', kid. I used to have a nice little bed and breakfast operating going on around here, but I shuttered that a couple of week ago. The only reason this little hut is still open is because we're on the way from the main road. I sell a nice amount of gasoline and touristy crap. And I'm not about to let some city slicker disappear just because he's a little pent up."
"...disappear?" Joel furrowed his brow, suspicion creeping up on him. "Like what, this place has a ghost story or something?"
The cranky looking rabbit impatiently turned his head to face the otter, coming into the conversation. "It ain't no fucking story, asshole! A cousin of mine rented a boat from this place about two months ago to catch some fish. Two days later, he still didn't come back. Went into the swamp myself, and I only found his boat. I combed the whole bayou for the bastard, and I never saw him again...there's a damn monster in the swamp." Joel didn't know what to say, but he saw that the lagomorph meant every word. His knuckles were clenched and his arm twitched every so often.
"Okay, so...your cousin got lost, but that's all it took for everyone to leave?" Joel asked, not believing that a monster was responsible. Maybe he just got lost, or drowned, but surely not a monster!
"Nope." The old mouse shook his head again. "It took the other six folks to disappear for us to wisen up.
"Six?!" Joel exclaimed, to which the trio just nodded slowly. "...no, you know what? There's no such thing as a monster, and I'll prove it! Gimmie a boat and some equipment, and I'll find this monster for you." The otter slammed a two hundred dollar bills down on the counter. After seeing the generous amount of green on his counter, coupled with the willing and able city slicker from up north, the old mouse gave out a sigh and turned to the others.
"...alright, kid. It's your funeral." He said, shaking Joel's paw and putting the money in the cash register. The otter turned around, still tugging on his bag as he walked towards the store exit. Before he did so, however, the shopkeeper called out to him in a lazy droll. "Don't bother looking for the monster, boy...They'll find you."
Joel gently rowed his boat through the murky waters of the Zinnia Bayou, passing trees and dodging protruding slabs of rock. The otter’s messenger bag was sitting in front of him, clamped shut to make sure no water would destroy his laptop. He wasn’t really paying attention to where he was going, just drifting through the motions of the swamp. Than, he hit something.
Joel’s rowboat made a loud thud as it collided with something, stopping it dead. The otter looked up and saw he had it a very old, wooden dock. But the moment he got on to the dock in question, it became aware to him that it was really more of a porch, a deck to a small hut in the middle of the swamp. “Hello?” He called out, wanting to see if there was anyone present in the vicinity.
There was.
The old wood beneath his feet began to shake soon after he had made himself known. The heavy, wooden door in front of him on the porch suddenly swung open, revealing the fabled monster of the swamp. Joel looked up to see the grinning mug of quite possibly the biggest and fattest aligator he had ever seen! He was dressed up in an unbuttoned, flannel shirt that left his big, bulging tummy in the open, and a pair of jeans that only came halfway up his big, fat ass.
“Howdy there, stranger.” The fat alligator smiled, bringing a scaly hand out to shake the otter’s. “Don’t think I I’ve ever seen you ‘round these parts. The name’s Clovis, what’s yer’s?”
“It’s uh...J-Joel.” The otter stuttered with a bit of a blush. He had always had a thing for guys, especially the ones who were more...healthy, making the interaction with this Clovis incredibly awkward. “Sorry, to intrude, I just didn’t think there would be anybody out here, especially with all those stores about a monster.”
“...monster?” Clovis furrows his brow depressingly. “Geez, is that what people are calling me? Not ‘the man of the Marsh’ or something nice? Man, you eat a few dozen rabbits or so, and people start calling others names.” He patted his big belly absentmindedly, which Joel just noticed has several paw shaped bulges on the surface.
“Ah, where are my manners?!” Clovis suddenly wrapped a fat arm around the otters back and scooted his body inside his hut. “All that rowing must have you starved! Let me get you a bowl of my famous jambalaya, that always warms people up!” Before Joel could protest just the smallest peep, the door behind him was locked shut.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
