DROC: Discovery

We've been walking for about two weeks and the change was so gradual I didn't even notice it. Don and Ibola live here-ish and I think even Simone picked up on the sheer wrongness faster than I did. We walked long enough to get through the woods several times. Maybe we were going in circles, I honestly couldn't tell. The sounds of the forest kinda fill your head to the point where I started blanking things out. The noise left a lot of time for awkward silence, with Don and Simone occasionally bobbing into the distance. He turned to Simone as the most competent/masculine in the group, myself being "useless" and Ibola "overemotional". This only made things more awkward, as there are more layers of awkward between myself and Ibola than I dare contemplate. He and Simone walked ahead and whispered together in hushed tones.

I asked Simone what they'd been talking about. She told me that Don thought that it was "trop silent" (too quiet). I was dumbfounded by the statement at the time, not checking my privilege or my ignorance. The jungle at that time was one of the most alive places I'd ever been. She shook her head and said she thought the forest was changing too. The days went on, and I honestly didn't see anything changing. We were still covered in bugs by day and eaten alive by mosquitoes at night. 

We were paused by Don for the first time last Tuesday. Don gestured to Simone and the pair of them walked ahead. Ibola and I sat in a clearing awkwardly, left dumb and deaf to the other one's thoughts. Ibola stood up suddenly and left me alone with the silence. The idea of the silence hit me as Ibola returned. She held a red flower in one hand and some kind of dead rodent in the other. I knew by her expression that she hadn't killed the rat. It was tied up with its own intestines and its eyes were bulging out of its hand. Ibola and I locked eyes.

He buried the rat and burnt the flower, finishing up just as Don and Simone returned. Simone told me that she thought "we found the kids. Or at least the place they might be." We followed Simone and Don down the path they made in the woods, and came to an overlook above a vast expanse of jungle. A massive, greasy black pyramid pushed its way through the matted jungle, covered in vines and plants. It looked like it had been abandoned for millenia. Lining its sides were grotesque statues of something that my mind slips away from like a scared child.

We spent another four or five days getting closer to the pyramid. This place buzzes, but it's not alive. Nothing but insects. The dead animals are getting larger, but most of the time we come across unidentifiable bits of bone and ichor. We've slept outside the wretched place for the last few nights, trying to find a way in. The footprints lead up to a blank slate of wall, and I have no clue how to get in. In any case, I doubt we'll have much internet if we get inside-- this is the first time I've been connected to a satellite in weeks.

Hopefully will be able to write again later.

DROC: Follow

We woke up early in the morning to go over to Ibola’s sister’s house. Ibola met us outside our hovel with the guide she’d convinced to come along. His name is Don, or at least that’s what he calls himself, a tall athletic man and incredibly sarcastic, with quick eyes. The four of us made our way over to Ibola’s sister’s house, where we had breakfast. Ibola’s sister, Nyangoma, is a jolly, cheerful woman, who didn’t take Ibola’s warnings too seriously. Nevertheless, she was happy for us to follow the soldiers for safeties sake. Nyangoma has two young girls, twins, who are almost disturbingly angelic. We made and ate breakfast with them, and the entire affair was so distant and idyllic, it became utterly surreal.  They were all chatting quite happily in French, and while Simone translated for me from time to time, mostly I let the conversation wash over me. It was all so damn normal-- jokes were being told and it was all playful and, to use a weak word, nice.

We heard the soldiers drive up outside. Suddenly the idyll was broken, at least for myself, Simone, Don and particularly Ibola. Nyangoma and her kids seemed as happy as ever. We crept round to the back, and hopped into the car, waiting for the soldier's jeep to ride on. Giving them a five minute head start, we followed them into the jungle.

It's been a longer trek than I'd anticipated at the beginning. There's still mud on the ground, though it hasn't rained in I don't know how long, which has aided in tracking the other car. The downside to this is that we've been slowed down considerably, and once we lost sight of the other vehicle Don had to stop the car several times to make sure we were going the right way. Every time night fell Ibola ordered us to bed, and even Don relinquished to her. We huddled in the back seat of the car, and waited through sleepless nights. Ibola was sure that the soldiers wouldn't risk going on through the night. My mind crept back to the MONSTER and I silently agreed. Wherever they're going, they want those children safe.


The first time I saw the monster was just a few days ago. I was popping back home during a lunch break, walking through central park. It was a fairly quiet part of the park, with not too many people around. I saw a little kid, about 3 or 4, toddle across the path I was taking towards the trees. He was clinging to a toy truck, staring at something I couldn't see, almost tripping over his untied sneakers. He reached a dense copse of trees and started talking to someone just out of my sight, so I moved to see better. And there it was.

Its blank face was about equal with the child's, its twisted, rake-thin body bent at the waist. It sported dozens of tentacles, two of which were gently stroking the child's face. Where the tentacles met the kid's skin splotchy red welts sprung up, and started to ooze pus. I must have made some noise, some dry choked sound at the back of my throat, as I was torn between running and intervening, because in response the monster's tendrils stiffened. It gripped the child's arms, pulling the boy apart. The child was screaming as blood stained his jacket.

It wouldn't stop. It just got worse and worse and worse, and I didn't do anything... The monster tilted its head and plied its limbs through the child's chest. But the child was somehow still alive, choking up blood. The child's eyes were still aware, even as the creature slowly broke his ribs out of his body and planted them like grotesque flowers in a circle around the base of the tree. He was still alive even as the monster drove his bones into the soft bark. He was still choking for breath even as his empty skin and organs were hung up on the tree as an almost decoration, his skin flourished over a branch like a sweater left out to dry. The child's head was buried, his eyes still open. The creature turned its head up to face me, cocked it, and moved off into the woods.

How I managed to get back home after that I still have no idea. The moment I got through the door I ran to the bathroom and vomited. My partner, a doctor, recognized something 'off' in me, but didn't pry, instead calling my workplace. I was in bed through most of the media circus surrounding the missing boy, and I missed the discovery of his grisly fate. I never told anyone what I saw-- who would believe me? I just tried to help the people who could be helped. But I did see the monster several times after that.


It's our 8th day of travel. I was spurred to make a post because of two things; a slightly strong signal from the phone of the sparse internet, and because we found the other car. There's nothing useful inside it, but there are footprints leading into the woods, broken branches, and knife prints in the trees, giving us a pretty clear path to follow. We've been walking for about a day. Nothing new. Just what I assume to be normal forest sounds, though nobody really tells me anything at this point. I'll try and keep this blog thing updated more often.

I feel paranoid at best right now. The trees, the humidity, the low hanging branches and the murky blotted-out-ness of the rest of the world. I keep expecting to see the MONSTER, or one of ITs Victims, or the kid I failed to save.