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[dfwrites]

Lil limerick for school

There was a raccoon named Crash

Who spent all day digging through trash

He looked all around

And soon after found

A tin can all filled with cash!

[dfwrites]

Leave No Trace

Short, creepy story about three guys who go on a backpacking trip. Enjoy!

(CWs: cannibalism, blood, violence, cursing, one instance of the word "crazy.")

Before I say anything, there’s something I have to make clear. I am not crazy. I don’t have schizophrenia, or DID, or any of the other disorders that will make this story more or less tangible. What happened out in those woods, what I did… could never be explained away by someone in a white coat. Which is why I’m locked away in this hospital. 

I used to enjoy hiking. Mostly, I went on day trips on the local trails, but I had always wanted to try my hand at backpacking. I had a friend who wanted to try it too, and he said this guy he works with knows some really great trails deep in the Appalachian Mountains. 

What do you expect me to do, refuse? Sure I didn’t know this guy, but Jerry trusted him enough. (For the sake of this, let’s call my friend Jerry and his coworker Liam.)

So we drive down to Appalachia. It was about two hours by van, all our gear and bags and tents stuffed in the trunk. I was excited. God, I think I was the most excited I’ve ever been. On the drive I got to know Liam a little bit. A college graduate working in a tech company, he was a smart guy. Smarter than either me or Jerry, who worked in sales. Especially when it came to the trails down south. 

You see, he grew up in that area. Spent his childhood on week-long backpacking trips through the woods. He was so into it, too. I was no slouch myself, but he made me look like some fucking normie. He knew all the footprints, all the knots. I asked if he was in boy scouts, but he said, “Nope, just really like the outdoors.”

That first night was nothing special. We set up our tents, made a fire, and started cooking dinner. I’ve camped before, just only ever on a campground. This was so much more thrilling. In the middle of nowhere, trees on every side, listening to the crickets and the birds? It was the dream. The only thing that was strange was Liam darting his head whenever there was a loud-ish noise, like a frog croaking or the wind picking up a little bit. But I didn’t think anything of it. I just assumed that he’d had a bad experience with a wild animal, considering how often he said went backpacking. 

The next day we hiked about five miles deeper into the mountain. It was unseasonably warm for October, but other than that, pretty normal. When we took a break in a little clearing for lunch, Liam pulled out an old hiking manual and started to thumb through it. It was pretty fucked up, that thing. The spine was creased and the pages looked like they had been in the rain. You know, all crinkly and stuff. 

I just happened to be walking by to grab some gear when he flipped to the chapter about hiking rules and etiquette. It looked like he spilled red ink all over one of the pages. It was completely unreadable, except for the title. Leave No Trace. 

I can tell you now that there is no goddamn way that was red ink.

When we set up our tents, I noticed Liam was hammering the spikes down a little more zealously than normal, but I didn’t think anything of it. But there was some weird, guttural noise coming from his throat that set my teeth on edge. Honestly, I just thought he was angry about something. Maybe he was. But there was something else in the sound, too.

A few days before the trip, I bought a watch with a glow-in-the-dark face to bring with me. I figured that if I woke up in the middle of the night to take a piss, I would want an easy way to see what time it is.

Let me tell you. It was not my bladder that woke me. 

My watch read 3:00 am when I heard it. It was a squelch and thump sound, like someone walking through mud with a cane. And there was breathing, too. Heavy and labored. Inhuman. I’m not going to lie, I thought a wolf or something had snuck into our camp and started eating our rations.

The squelching stopped. I thought the animal – whatever it was – had gone, so I unzipped my tent and peeked out, just a little bit.

The moon was full and the sky was clear. I could see Liam, hunched over… something splayed out on the ground. He looked larger than I remembered him being. His shoulders were broader and, even bent like that, at least a foot taller than normal. I squinted at the shape at his feet to try and gauge what it was that I was seeing. For almost a minute my brain couldn’t comprehend it. 

His legs were broken; The bones were protruding from his skin. His clothes were ripped, torn off of his body and strewn across the ground like… like discarded newspapers. But the worst part – the worst part was his face. 

It was a bloody soup, bits of bone and brain matter mixed in. His features – his nose, mouth, eyes – weren’t… there anymore. 

Jerry’s face was concave. 

Liam was still holding the rubber mallet loosely in his hand – the same one he used to hammer down the spikes – completely covered in blood. Even the hilt. I couldn’t exactly see his face in the darkness, but I knew it was something other than human. I could see his eyes when he looked at me, though. Bloodshot and gleaming in the moonlight. 

I was terrified. Of course I was: my friend was just fucking murdered! I wanted to cower back into my tent, zip it up, pretend it was all a dream. But those eyes… those eyes beckoned me out. It was like they were tethered to my gut, pulling me like a fish on a line. 

Liam — or what once was Liam, I guess, if that wasn’t what he always was — was muttering something under its breath in animalistic huffs and grunts. Something in English. Something that I recognized. 

“Leave no trace. Leave no trace.” His eyes were still locked on mine as I walked closer to the body on the ground. I couldn’t bear to look at it. I couldn’t bear to tear my eyes away from Liam’s. I remember trying… so hard…. to look away. To run. I thought he was going to kill me. He’d already killed Jerry. He’d already killed my friend. 

I felt like I was in a dream. As I walked forward, I remember a distinct sense of calm wash over me, even as I panicked. Liam’s voice was getting — slowly, steadily — louder. It didn’t sound like him. It sounded like an animal had been living inside of him, speaking through his mouth. 

“Leave no trace. Leave no trace.”

As he stared at me, he kneeled beside Jerry’s body. I kneeled beside him, too. The air smelled coppery with his blood — I didn’t care. That weird sense of calm penetrated through the panic. It was all I felt. 

It makes me sick to talk about what we did next. The taste is still in my mouth, especially after the nightmares. But my mind was completely clear, not muddled or fogged up like they say is what’s supposed to happen when you disassociate. All that was in my head was that one goddamned phrase. Leave no trace.

I’m not going to use any euphemisms. I’m not going to say anything to make what happened sound at all okay. I’m only going to say the truth. 

We began to eat Jerry. 

[dfwrites]

Brainstorming and Research!

(Copied and pasted directly from Gdocs!)

Clothing:

Clothing should cover all parts of the body. Should be loose and colorful (ESPECIALLY not black). Made of linen, cotton or wool. A lot of things were made of camel hair. 

Headwear

Shemagh: versatile piece of cloth that can be tied around the neck, or around the head, nose and mouth.

Main clothing

Thawb: Long (to the ankles) and loose, covers all of legs and all of arms. Made of linen or cotton.

Bisht: Kind of an overcoat. Also long and loose. Worn only during special occasions, or by higher ups (religious people, the rich, etc.)

Idk if I should have him wear this. Maybe I can pull a Prince of Egypt and create a vest version of this

Footwear

Leather shoes (NOT sandals. Bad idea.)

Clothing inspiration: Bedouin men

Name:

Ahuli

Amaurri

Kahli

Kobi

(Nickname: The Nomad)

I like Kobi. It’s simple and people recognize it, because of its similarity to Coby. 

I also like Kahli though.

More clothing (for different characters)

Headwear:

Madhalla (Women’s conical hat, like a straw witch’s hat)

I like the pointed tops better than the rounded tops.

Dress:

Abaya. It’s usually black and worn for special occasions, like a Bisht. I think they should wear a niqab with it. Also called an Aba.

The Abaya is cinched at the waist with what looks like a thin, tied belt. Could be used to keep pouches of provisions or tools, like a knife(?)

Yemeni knife is called a jambiya, but is only unsheathed during extreme conflicts. It’s curved slightly at the end. Leather sheath. 

Wears gloves, too. In one of the pics I found she’s wearing brown gloves, although in the article it says the gloves are usually black. 

I think I’ll go with brown, for contrast.

Shoes:

Leather and flat.

Usually bright colors. In one of the pictures she’s wearing blue, but I’ve also seen a bunch of red. 

Clothing inspiration: Female Yemeni goat herders in Hadhramaut. Called the Hadhrami.

Location inspirations:

Shibam, Hahdramaut, Yemen

Names:

Rabia

Sabah

Yamina

Sabah’s fantastic. I’ll go with Sabah.

Characters (so far):

Kahli, the wandering sorcerer

Sabah, the goatherd

[dfwrites]

A silly little Pinterest board for my silly little writing project.