The day was grey. That morning could only be described by the dull shade. Michael woke up for no reason that morning. The sky was cloud covered and the cold fog engulfed the town. He crawled out of bed and straight to the bathroom. In the sink there was a measly little fly attached to the side of porcelain bowl. Not being able to withstand the abhorrent sight of such a pest in his household Michal reached for the faucet and sent the poor insect to an early demise. Michael watched the insect struggle and try to flap its delicate wings but eventually the effort ended and the tired insect accepted its fate and let the sink wash it away into the black pit of despair that was the drain.

Michael went on with his day and the insect’s struggle for life faded from his memory, like most insignificant events do in the mind of a person. He picked up the remote and turned on the TV but was greeted by a terrible and loud static. He frantically pressed the off bottom trying to rid of the terrible electric scream. But then figures began to appear in the grey blurs and slowly the figures began to take the shape and color of people, more specifically news anchors, and he realized his previous efforts were for nothing.

As the morning news filled the room with background noise, Michael began his morning routine. He washed his face to try remove all sign of his lack of sleep but it did not help. Then he poured himself a bowl of cereal.

The dull mood of the morning was suddenly put off. The reverberation of a sound from outside the house. In an effort of denial Michael considered the fact that it was probably just the television,and tried to ignored it. He ate his cereal with much discomfort. Seated with his back against the wall, Michael scanned the room cautiously trying enjoy his frosted flakes. The sound continued rattling and thumping was coming from his door and no one was home but him. He picked up a kitchen knife and walked uneasily towards his door. As he neared his head to the peephole he was thrown back by a powerful bashing against the door. He grasped the knife firmly in his hand but loosened his clutch when he heard “Michael its me! Open the door I need to show you something”.

Michael did just as the voice commanded and on the doormat stood his friend in a shaggy grey college hoodie and black jeans. On the floor before him laid a black reflective box.

“What's the box?” asked Michael attentively.

“Man it's what I’ve been talking about all week! My grandfather gave me his old polaroid camera. If you're not doing anything we should go take some pictures of birds or something.”

Michael was in fact not doing anything and then invited the boy into the abode. He kept his arm behind his back trying to conceal the kitchen weapon he had brought to protect himself. He stuffed the knife into the pocket of his hoodie and tried do so without alarming his guest. Although embarrassed now, instead of fear he felt relief that all his precaution was for nothing.

“So where are you thinking of going man?” asked Michael.

“I hear a lot of chirping coming from the marsh behind my house every morning. Maybe we'll find some cool birds there.”

Without hesitation, Michael agreed since his day was packed with no plans anyways. In less than a minute, the two were out of the house and on their way to the marsh.

As they arrived to the wooded swamp they joined onto a trail that appeared to be for joggers and boy scouts and the two set off on their artistic adventure.

“20 minutes and no birds man. Are you sure you heard birds?” asked Michael impatiently.

“Of course I did! This place is full of the things I swear,” said the strange boy.

“Maybe they flew south for the winter” whined Michael.

The bickering continued but then a loud ruffle caught the attention of the two boys. “Guahh” cried a raspy voice from the canopy of the trees.

“Did you hear that! I told you” exclaimed the strange pale boy.

Without a moment's hesitation the boys darted in the direction of the bird. With every time they neared the ruffle changed location and the boy zigzagged in hot pursuit of the illusive animal.

Blood rushed vigorously through the hearts of the two as the sprinted past trees in the direction of the strange crowing. Until finally they had to take a moment to breath. As the two panted for air the air around them began to take on a new spirit. The smell of wood and earth was now stronger than it was earlier and the fog now as ten times more dense than it had been earlier that morning. The trees and bushes were blent into a gray and green haze. The two boys were stuck in the middle of the swamp without a clear form of navigation.

“Let's just follow our footsteps back,” said the pale boy.

Michael having no other options followed the boy into the forest. There was no uniform path so there were areas where their footprints crossed and turned in strange patterns. It seemed as they walked further that the amount of obscurities in the prints seemed to increase, but without any form of clear navigation this was all they could do.

The boys followed a pair of footprints slowly and descended, without knowing it, deeper into the wood. The crowing returned, only now it was not an exciting sound but rather it sounded as though the bird were trying to mock them. The whole forest began to rattle as though to laugh at the two boys.

The boys continued walking until there were no longer trees, just the grass they could see at their feet. However in the distance they could see one lone tree. A silhouette of a tree clearly defined in the dense fog. This was the last distinguishable object visible to the boys. The fog had grown so dense that the visibility between them was negligible. And slowly into the swampy purgatory the boys proceeded. Occasionally they would find each other walking in different directions or would hear the sounds of birds silently in the background following them through the fog.

As they neared the black figure they could hear the sound of the bird crowing more loudly than ever. The boys squinted their eyes and could make out the shape of a fat bird sitting between two large branches of gloomy tree. They proceeded closer and closer and the pale boy equipped his camera to at last capture the sight of the avian. The crowing grew louder and louder until the laughter of the crowing turned into violent screaming. The screech did not frighten the boys however, as they figured the bird must be crowing loudly as a defense mechanism to protect chicks, which would interesting to pictures of. However the terrible hollering did not end and as they grew closer the bird varied its call. The crowing grew deeper and uglier than before and fright filled the bodies of the boys when they finally arrived to the tree.

The camera flashed but then the boys came to a realization.There was infact no tree. Just a large stone upon which stood a large black figure. Arms stretched into the air the skinny black creature screamed with a violent frustration. This monster smelled of rotted leaves and rotted meat. His body was terribly thin and large fingers decorated every part of the beasts body. Where the boys previous saw the bird, was a large singular red eye that glowed like a hot coal. The the screaming seized and became whistling. The sound was beautiful but the intentions of the beast were not.

Like whips the arms of beasts and its thousands of fingers attacked the boys. Without noticing the day had gone and all that could be seen at this point was a distant  moon and darkness. The boys ran into the fog blindly. Michael and the boy were now separated but their screams showed sign of both their presences. The whistling was strong now and Michael’s mind descended into another realm. Now he saw thousands of red burning eyes in the fog and could no longer feel his legs or body. He no longer heard screaming. He no longer saw fog. He could no longer think straight. He could not remember his friends name nor his very own. All he could imagine were a thousand sticky black tentacles and the red eye. The world was filled with a glowing red haze and beside he saw his the friend he could no longer name lying on the black muddy floor screaming, and was now hardly identifiable as human carcass after what the beast had done to him.

Shaking and screaming Michael looked down to reveal his legs had long been detached so viciously he hadn't felt a thing. Laying in a pool of his own blood Michael looked up to see the crimson red eye. His gray hoodie was now painted in the same color. He struggles as a thousand arms pulled him into the deep mud of the swamp and though he kicked and screamed the arms did not loosen. He gave a gloomy tired look as his body sank into the earth and grass for his struggle would be of no use to him and calmly Michael accepted his fate a descended into the black.

Before the rock laid a polaroid that sunk also into the soil with a blurry capture of a glowing red sphere. Like Michael it was pulled under and the effort of its existence as it disappeared forever had been truly for nothing.