It was the Winter’s howl that used a syringe to put the fear into me. I had pulled out my blanket to cover myself from the creeping feeling I was obtaining. It swooped in the night of the compressed icy temperature of December 26th. My friend Zack Windel found out about a lost treasure. He had used a stripe to mark the area on a map. It was a hard place and find and was abundant with much of a swampy covered land. The landscape was beautiful this time of year; not just the snow and swamp separately, but together in the depths of it all I’d like to paint the scene. We exploited the tendril; a clutter was amongst the land showing how untouched it was. Zack had found out that the swamp was somewhat alive in a way; it was providing extra vitalizing grounds for the tendril to sprout about. This was his lost treasure; this extravagant view. He became infused with the power, the magic of the swamp and fused into it. He lost his will be human and tried to take me with him. I ran away and now I’m sitting here, wondering, what will become of my hometown.
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