Is Mount Zion, Washington?

The sun was glistening through the tall, swaying pines. To the right of the trail, a gentle river flowed softly down towards the mouth of the lake. Walking across the rickety wooden bridge, I inhaled a deep breath of refreshingly crisp mountain air. The sun beat down on me as I made my way across the bridge and back onto the well-used hiking trail. The ambient sounds of chirping birds, babbling water, and the croaks of several frogs filled my ears as I made my way around the bend. As I entered the mouth of the forest, I could see my father standing in the middle of the path, glancing upwards, taking in the beauty that had began to engulf us. “We better get going.” he said, looking back at me. “There’s still many miles to go.” I smiled and turned, taking in one last view of the beautiful creekside. Then, with determination, we set out to finish the challenging trek we had started.

The lake darkens as the ominous clouds race across the sky, as black as the devil’s soul, and swallows the bliss-blue complexion of the sky faster than you can blink. The world has abruptly become cellar-dark and the heavens above look to collapse down upon me. A deafening wind runs over the landscape like a thousand horses, the noise of the raindrops their clattering hoofs. The threatening force of the gales knocks and blows the trees in precarious ways, almost as though, if it had wanted to, the wind could blow them away as if they were but feathers, not heavy pines. Lighting lights up the sky like liquid, golden ore streaks being forged into forks up above. Wriggling and writhing with the pain of their own existence. Flashing once, twice, three times, polished and glossy like the cold prongs of the apocalypse. Shaking myself from my weather-caused trance, I hurry for shelter under a nearby fern tree. Staring deep into the blackness of the storm I wonder whether I will ever see that bliss-blue appearance

As Bill took his first step in the woods, he takes a deep breath soaking in the scent of oak and fresh ash. “far removed from the seats of strife”, not having a warm bed or hot meals even a full night rest. Knowing he had one abventure ahead for Bill and Kats. Both having to hike 16 miles everyday over rocks,trees, crossing ice cold rivers, and hearding the rain outside of thier tend and the roaring of the bears at night.

I stopped for a moment to get out my flashlight and head lamp before it became pitch black. Light works differently in the woods. There is no light unless it is from the sun or the moon. There are no streetlamps or houses with a light on just, dark. It was absolutely frigid once the sun vanished behind the mountains. I was walking up the road that leads in to the camp. The first that hit me was the smell of rancor, The un-mistakable smell of water mixing with soil. The stream was running strong pushing clear all of the leaves that have drifted down from the trees. The stream was flowed like a small reviver collecting all the water from the rain. I set up my hammock just next to it in-between two towering scrub oak trees with squires flying between them and fell asleep to the sound of the trees talking and the streams

The water, in her fiery glory, began her journey through the furrows and rivets that the forest floor had bestowed upon itself. Past the river and past the bramble- the water continued to flow. The sky never ceased her crying, only allowing

The evening was ominous and gray. The cold wind blew softly, and carried a heavy scent of blood through the streets. A loud intense screech pierced the ears of its listener, leaving the body trembling in fear.

Mount Zion, Washington, located just north of Rock Island, where the rain was soft, the fog was thick, and, if you were lucky enough to live near one of its many orchards, the air was rich with the perfume of apple blossoms. Known as the Liminal Capitol of the Pacific Northwest, Mount Zion earned itself a reputation for various hauntings, UFO sightings, disappearances, and a plethora unexplained events. It eventually became a novelty town, every shop catering to tourists, however, I do believe that under the lively rural exterior, something dark is lurking in the massive forest surrounding the town. Fortunately, I do not, nor have I ever lived in Mount Zion, Washington.

She ran as fast as her feet could take her. The moonlight weaved in and out of the branches illuminating spots she could reach. She did not dare to turn back to look over her shoulder because she knew it is how the killer always got the victim. Her white slip teared when it got snagged against a branch. Her fingers gripped the silk material and held it together by the tattered seams. She quickly began her escape once more and found a clearing from the icy branches.

Breathless, Alex ran through the forest. It was twilight, normally his favorite time of day, but this golden hour took on a malicious tone. These woods were full of weeds, slippery moss covered stones , and twisted, thorny vines. Alex’s foot caught on a snarled root, and he tumbled onto the cold dirt. Alex sensed something was amiss, and he knew The Beast was growing ever nearer. As Alex lay sprawled on the forest floor, a single thought ran through his mind. “I’m done.” with the will to live draining from him. Alex lay still in the dirt and leaves resting for his last time. The soreness in his legs was so unbearable he wanted the release of death; craved for it even. “Thump”....... “Thump” The Beast's feet approached slowly and

It was like two hands intertwining together when the moon’s light peeked through the gargantuan sycamore trees. We are on the treacherous run to freedom, and I am eager to get there. Because of my bistered skin, I was shackled and cuffed, and forced to work in a field my whole life without my family. If all goes well tonight, I will be a free man who makes his own decisions instead of having everything forced upon me by an austere master. It seems like we had been running for days and my feet had never felt pain this agonizing until now. We slid through the woods like a snake slithering towards its prey until we began to hear voices. They echoed through the trees and would not stop. Ducking behind opaque bushes, we waited for the signal

Rain hit my head, raced down my face and back. We trudged through the mud, sinking in our boots feet deep. All we could see was our breathe, all we could hear was the wind slapping against the trees, rain hitting, and our boots squishing in the mud. We expected the weather to be like this, the weather channel had been going crazy all week about a storm passing through our way around 5 pm today. Just as predicted the rain became heavier, fog thicker, and sky darker. But our search group did not give up; we had been searching months for the beloved missing girl named Emma Barrett in the Elliott State Forest in Oregon. She was last scene heading into the forest with her parents on a Tuesday afternoon for a hike, hours

As the sun rose over the horizon it awoke the jungle slowly and efficiently. Soon I could hear the morning birds chirp with all their heart and that triggered joy and excitement in my soul. A morning breeze toured the jungle making the flowers and leaves tango with rhythm and finesse as though they were experts. The lush evergreen trees stood so firm as if the roots were clinging for their very life, in the distance there was a Crystal River and a waterfall as its source. I could hear the rampaging rapids after the dip of the waterfall which slowly converted into a swift river forcefully turning at every bank.

The sun was especially bright as it reflected off the water, blinding the trees with the shine. The breeze was strong, but not too strong. Strong enough to blow my hair like an industrial fan would. Birds chirped in the distance, squirrels barked in the treetops, snails moved along the rocks in the river, leaving behind a thin trail of slime. The flowers' fragrances intoxicated me.

It was a warm fall day in early October, a day that I recall quite vividly. The smells of the transition from summer to fall were in the air, accompanied by the sounds of birds singing and the wind blowing through the trees. It was on this beautiful day that my existence was almost terminated. A quick hunting trip could have ended my life.

In the dead of night, caked in icy mud and blood from the abrasions of the brambles in the mire passed the Fluted Vale; Aberdeen escaped in the cover of darkness in scantly a stitch of clothing stark against her rice flower white skin. She removed leeches from her body with numb fingers and slight pain and annoyance as the chill of the cold ground permeated her tired cold bones in a place just past pure exhaustion. Her heart raced with a sluggish gurgle in her heart and she could feel it in her ears as she saw her breath in plumes of steam in the waning moonlight.