Rottersdam Summit

         The air was heavy with the stench of rotting flesh intermingled among the fog laden ridges. Sheila cautiously peers out the window of this small cabin. Stuck in the middle of one of the deepest and darkest forests she's ventured, in some time. This adventurous young lady has explored many other places around the globe. From caves in South America to the Swiss alps, but none of those could have prepared her for the day she has endured so far. This was supposed to be the one week of relaxation and inspiration she set aside annually.

            Morning sun had greeted her as it slowly rose over the crest of the mountain. She sat on an elaborately decorated veranda. The columns were shaped from spectacular wood, the grains exquisitely stained and each supported a modern art inspired steel structure. Her cup of warm tea soothed cool lips and she felt it's warmth travel into her stomach, then filtered into ends of her toes. A well dressed waiter produced a bowl of fresh fruit lightly dusted with sugar, steaming oatmeal and an absolutely well-prepared poached egg. Sheila knew the vacation would cost her dearly, but this would justify the hours put in working on her novel.

            The bottom of bowls were peaking at her satisfied appetite. Just then, she noticed a simple fly energetically swooping around on a mission to crush the peace that had been created. Her hands swatted at the pest and she was determined not to let this ruin the tranquility. The swings of her hands could have been compared to that of a trained athlete. A new annoyance had suddenly joined in the war of wits and strife. "AHA!", her mind had conceived the defeat of one of the foes buzzing her ears. As quickly as this one had seen its demise, several more appeared and Sheila began to wonder if this was a regular occurrence and what had happened to the gentleman serving this wonderful breakfast. She called for his assistance more than a few times without a hint of response. ”What is going on?", she pondered.

            At this point, she had become more than displeased. Her anger was starting to well up inside and she vigorously sought the entry for the dining hall. The door was slightly open. Her voice echoed through the crack and an additional troop of flies were now cruising the air streams. No reply? She pushed on the door with some gusto only to reveal the freshly slaughtered remains of the butler, but the pungent smell of pus quickly filling the breezes. The screech that bellowed from deep within her could have rivaled the whistle of a train. Nearing the end of her audible discontent, she happened to hear groaning that could only be described as the last dying breaths of hollow souls. Quickly, she turned around and barreled across the manicured estate of "Rottersdam Summit".

            She had no intentions of even giving a glance to the horror she had seen and heard. The field seemed endless even with her physical aptitude. The sun had risen to near peak-of-day and Sheila noticed the sparkle of what appeared to be a pond. Breathless, distraught and savoring a quick refreshment, she drifted in that direction. The first scream had nearly ripped her vocal cords. Now, another screech threatened to sever the remaining threads when she saw the shadows of floating corpses strewn across the body of water. Clogging the only artery of flow the water could use for escape from this cesspool. Her only thought then was to leave this once peaceful place, but she unfortunately had no idea where she was or in which direction to run.

            Cowering amongst the creaky floor, dried out pieces of furniture and gasping on the stagnant dusty air, she wondered, "What hell on earth had she visited? What evil essence was making that horrid groaning? How was she suppose to survive?" The window offered crusted views of the surroundings as she let these thoughts squander her psyche. She had only heard of this in stories and comics. "Was she stuck in an f-ing zombie tale?" ...