Instinct

2 - The Guest House

 By the time we've rounded the corner the mysterious figure had turned before us, he's vanished leaving mark and me on our own out in the trees once again. From the corner, we walk a little while more before suddenly a raven takes off out of nowhere scaring the hell out of me and forcing a shrill squeak from my throat. Mark seems to find this funny as he's laughing up a storm from behind.

"Hey! Come on! Given the circumstances, I'm allowed to be a little on edge!" I protest in my defence. This only causes the man to laugh louder though. I stomp my foot like a child and turn back to where the bird flew from, another gasp leaving me as I notice why the Raven had been there, to begin with.

"What," Mark breathes out between chuckles. "Another bird?"

I scoff and move to the side revealing what I'd found, Mark's laughs coming to a stop once his eyes land on it.

Lying on the ground somewhat shoved to the side sits a pile of chopped animal parts, most predominantly legs. The ends jagged and practically torn apart as if they'd been ripped straight from the animals, most probably cow's, torso.

"Oh... Not a bird," he breathes as he crouches down before it. As he does, I feel the jolt of another memory coming on and rub at my forehead to ease the slight headache.

"If I'm correct in remembering," I begin, getting Mark's attention. "I don't wanna turn around right now..." I finish with a sigh.

Mark looks past me, his eyes widening after squinting slightly.

"No, you probably don't, but..." he stops.

"I'm going to have to..." I breathe and turn.

I'm met with the vaguely artistic web made up of the same animal limbs, all bloody, close to fresh, and strung up in somewhat of a circle, and a bunch of suspended, circular saw blades all either stained dry-crimson or rust.

"Gross..." I comment as we slowly step towards it.

"Yeah, something like that."

The smell is dreadful, as can be imagined when describing severed limbs tied up and left to bake in the day's heat. This does explain all the flies though. It being somewhat swampy explained the mosquitoes, but the flies didn't really have any obvious cause before now.

"So... I guess we've gotta crawl through the flesh monument..." Mark sighs as he approaches it further, his eyes raking in all the blood and gore spewed around us.

"I guess you're right... Dibs not, though."

"You're a child."

"You're a little bitch!"

"Hey!"

I huff and push past him, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face as I pass. I flip him the bird from behind before I kneel against the dirt mixed with the half-baked blood that's been dripping from the 'flesh monument', and crawl underneath with a grimace.

"Stupid fucking game... Stupid fucking blood! Oh my fucking god, that bits still wet!" I choke out before ripping my hand away from the squelching, bloody mud and wiping it against the dryer ground. I continue on without any more mishaps and drag myself into a standing position once I'm completely through.

"Come on," I call through the mess. "It wasn't so bad."

"Wasn't so bad? You were complaining the whole time!"

"Just hurry up, ya' big baby!"

With some muttering and a spluttering of 'ew's' every now and again, Mark eventually pulls himself through after me and stands with my help.