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The Story of Dismal

Novel By: HuntedTornado

After a fisherman's boat sinks in the Dismal Swamp, he must survive there until he can rebuild his boat. But, out in the swamp, there is no warmth (even though he's in Virginia), minimal supplies, and a figure that terrorizes him in the night and day. View table of contents...


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Submitted:Mar 19, 2013    Reads: 11    Comments: 3    Likes: 1   

I left the fire to find some more wood. I had cooked my fish and eaten it all in a matter of seconds. I was still hungry though, I knew that I was going to get some more food soon.

I came across a big fallen tree that was going to make great firewood. I was breaking the first stick off the branch when all the birds in the surrounding trees simultaneously flew away. I looked up just in time to see a dead squirrel fall on me. It was a healthy brown squirrel before it died. It had a long slit all the way down its belly and a partially skinned back. I looked inside the hole in its stomach and saw fresh meat. I was sad that it had died, but I was starving.

I grabbed the sticks and the squirrel and returned to my fire. I gasped when I got back. The fire had been extinguished. My fish knife was covered in blood and stuck in a log. Since I had left not 10 minutes ago, something or someone had ruined my campsite. I dug around in the soot of the burned out fire to look for an ember. Just when I gave up, I noticed that all the ashes were wet; water had been poured on it. The small few pieces of tinder I had was also soaked through.

I decided to re-take inventory of my belongings. The Muskie was still there, its seats still filled with cotton. I still had both of my ropes, my bow, and the stick and bark I had used to start the fire, and the gasoline jar. My hooks were still there, plus the bobbers, but the other knife was missing. I climbed up the tree that I was camping in and saw the lantern, and the rifle. I also saw the other knife placed on top of a pile of gunpowder and all of the bullet shells but nine. The remaining bullets were untouched except for a small incision made near where the shell and the bullet connected. I took as much as I could of the gunpowder as I could, opened the DIY pole repair kit, and dumped the materials out. Then I put the gunpowder in the plastic bag and placed it in one of the compartments of my tackle box. As for the DIY kit, I put the pieces of it into another compartment and closed the tackle box.

After I put the 9 bullets back in the box, I sat with my back against the tree and watched the sun begin to fall below the horizon. I ran through the day's events with a sigh and a growl. Someone had purposely tried to sabotage me.


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