Donathon’s Marsh

Genevieve thwarted her badminton racket and impacted the shuttle, hurling it high in the air and over to my side where I putt it back to her.

”Your good at this Jackson.” She said panting.

“Thanks.” I said grunting, struggling to keep up with her swift and quick movements.

A strong gust of wind snatched our shuttle out of the air and aimed it out towards the small openly wooded area with Creed’s River. Genevieve ran after it and pelted a loud “NO!” as the shuttle plummeted into the river and sat ever so calmly at the surface, bobbing up and down. The hyper current took the shuttle and dragged it down Grimleave road. My god is she fast. I struggled keeping up with Gen as she engaged her athletes run. We bolted for what seemed like forever, we were approaching streets and paths we’d never known about or stepped foot in because of Donathon‘s Marsh.

Donathon’s Marsh was an old wives tale almost everyone knew in the state or passing road. Donathon’s Marsh is a Large concrete bunker surrounded by swamps and thickly mudded areas that are sure to swallow you. Donathon was a middle aged guy seen to patrol the entrance outside the fancy bunker once you got passed the carnivorous Marsh, carrying a bayonet or some sort of shot gun, possibly from the cold or civil wars. Or maybe he was an immigrant. They told that Donathon was agressive, and harvested any trespassers before offering them to the devil. I don’t believe in old fairy tales. Fairy tales are for dumb kids who don’t listen to their mommy and daddy.

I could tell Genevieve finally realised where she ended up when the river stopped winding and twisting and turning like the old tree Elk outside my yard older than my pops. The river has stopped gushing and bustling and being in a rush, and it drowned out its angry currents by seeping into the Marsh to make it all the more dense. I remember reading in the news that poor old Jimmy down the street was trying to find his football his bratty brother kicked but took a wrong step into the wrong area and the thick swampy Marsh oozed inside of him, making him one with the Marsh forever.

”Hey Jackson, we’re down at Donathon‘s Marsh, maybe we should turn back it’s just a stupid shuttle, Im pretty sure my dad has more in the basement. I don’t have a good feeling about this.” Genevieve exclaimed.

”Don’t be such a wuss.” I teased,

”What are you afraid big ol’ Donathon will come and swallow you up like the Marsh?” That did it. Genevieve frowned, her thin rosey lips unamused and she walked forward as if to impress me.

Donathon’s bunker was a hefty lump of concrete moulded into a large square, a skeleton remain, with empty wallowing cuts in each side for windows that could be easily boarded up for safety. You could see the basic metal pipe structure exposed, and rubble of glass and rubbish scattered all over the place. They say that the basement is where he is hiding alive, all though I highly doubt that, 1861 was a very long time ago.

Gen was hesitant to go inside at first, her some what decent trainers were now painted in muck that dotted footprints behind her; she climbed in through the window and jumped down.

”You do know doors exist right?” I waltzed.

”Yeah well it looks barricaded, and if this Donathon guy is still alive, I don’t want to be caught for breaking an entry. But I really wanna leave, I seriously feel sick to my stomach being here.” Gen shuddered.

”You can leave if you want, you can go play with funky Fernald if you want. Your boyfriend.” I can’t help but giggle at my best friend. But I think I seriously made her mad.

”Screw you Jonathon, Fernand isn’t funky that’s just his home smell you imbecile. You suck im going home.” Gens emerald green eyes caught the sunlight and refracted in glittery beams of light,

”Uh Jonathon, maybe we should hide..” Gen whispered. The glass crunched beneath my feet as I approached her. Oh my god was that Donathon? Outside the bunker on the shrivelled yellow grass was a tall maybe human person; with a gun propped up against his arm and his loud black leather boots continuously cluttering against each other as he marched along the property.

*clack clack clack clack*

There is something about that continuous loud clacking that just disturbs me. His black leather boots refracted the bright light outside and as it blinded me, almost hypnotised me, he vanished. It couldn’t be. He was right there! By this point I could tell Genevieve was agitated and petrified.

“Jackson come on let’s go!” Genevieve bellowed. I was star struck about Gens incompetence, I stayed put and refused to go back. Instead I began to intimidate Gen by slowly taking steps back towards the crumbling stairs towards the basement, moulding faces that were cringey and weird.

“Jackson you idiot let’s go now!” Gens voice was shaking but I continue to perpetuate her.

“Oh no! Looks like I’m going into the horrifying basement! What am I ever to do?!” I mocked loudly. I hadn’t realised that my stupidity would lead to my life becoming endangered. I suddenly heard the pickup speed of boots, the loud clacking noise becoming active again but this time it sounded quicker and more agressive.

*clack clack CLACK CLACK*

I felt a sudden whoosh of cold wind pass through me, making me shiver and then a stone cold mutilated face emerged out of the atmosphere and then some cold hands which fired shots of energy through me before I lost my balance and tumbled down the stairs. The impact itself on the cold strewn stairs left me winded and unable to breath, my tears streaming behind me as I struggle to catch my breath and processing the pain that was flooding me.

“Jackson!” Genevieve’s voice echoed in my ears that were now ringing at high frequencies. My eyes were struggling to process merges of shades and colours. The basement was cold down here and smelled more funky than Fernald. In fact something about the whiff of this stench inside my nose disturbed me all the more. It smells like that time Jimmy invited me over and didn’t realise there was a dead rat in his room. This stench was foul and rotten and the musty panting of someone or something caught me off guard, as a tall shadow emerged into the only source of light at the stairs. Where is Genevieve? Is she gone? Oh god I really hope my best friend didn’t leave me down here. The creature stood with a gas mask funnelled over his face, before he sharply came over to me and surrounded my neck in his clutch, wrapping them tighter and tighter until my airways were blocked off and I was unable to taste the sweet golden air that I was ever so gratefully given every day, before all seemed dark and quiet..