Quicksand Fans

Original: 12/10/2017
Revised: 03/17/2025 (St. Patrick’s Day. Interesting coincidence.)

It is called Panentheism, (“pa-nen-theism”) the belief that I (the world) have a mind and soul.

What makes it a type of theism is that some people worship the mind/soul of the planet.

Some even call me “Mother Earth”.

So, I am the mind/soul that occupies the planet just like a mind/soul would occupy a human or an animal.

I can accept that.

But, it disturbs me when they start treating me as a god worthy of worship and seek no other.

It is not like I am unchanging or eternal.

I am too complex to be created by chance. Someone other than me made me what I am today.

I am subject to the same Laws of Entropy. Everything and everyone falls apart as we age.

The Laws of Thermodynamics state that I am part of a closed universe, which is steadily getting colder and less hospitable.

I was never eternally complex. Someone had to put me here to get the ball rolling downhill.

I never understood how I would be a substitute for a creator such as God of this Universe and everything on the planet – at least.

Most of these people who worship me believe that the cycle of life they see and experience around them is a GOOD thing.

If everyone did not interfere with nature, everything would be paradise.

It was as if they could do anything to change the course of nature.

Earth is so powerful that it creates earthquakes that level whole cities. That ability would make a powerful weapon to use in their wars.

They are only beginning to understand the physics behind volcanic eruptions. But, starting or stopping one would be only part of their Science Fiction for a long time.

They know even more about hurricanes, typhoons, and cyclones. They know where the storms are going and how to build stuff that would survive the chaos.

But to start, stop, and even steer them?

They will always keep dreaming of ways to try.

No, my child! That is my dark side!

That is the side of me that can and will kill you the first chance I get.

Regarding life itself?

This so-called circle-of-life includes plants, bugs, and animals that die horrible deaths.

So many are swallowed alive. They die in darkness and the sting of the acid bath of a stomach.

Others have limbs torn off and are gutted alive by another predator.

Others die a slow and horrible death from disease, injury, or starvation.

Some search day by day or moment by moment for food to stay one step ahead of starvation.

They do not always succeed.

My dreamy flock of worshipers ponders the natural flow of peace, beauty, and flow.

Nature wonders if their bodies would make a good meal.

Coyotes, bears, and vultures have eyed them all. The taste of fresh meat from a fresh kill was hard to find.

Cologne and perfume would make them smell sweet.

But the maggots and worms make my favorite smell of rotting corpses. They are breaking down flesh to become food for my plants.

Even the ground itself could betray them.

It could be as simple as the gooey slime on a rock that would make them slip and fall.

Snakes, foxes, and rabbits like to make their homes in the ground.

One day, the ground is safe to walk on. The roof of their cave is strong enough to hold your weight.

Another day, the ceiling collapses. The deep hole is big enough to break your leg if you fall into it.

Streams of water flow through the cracks in my limestone. Eventually, they become great underground rivers that grind out large caverns under the surface. When the top of the hollow gets near the surface, the ceiling will not support the ground. A cave-in unexpectedly drops everything into a watery abyss. Trees, houses, and cars, nothing is spared.

Quicksand and quagmires are the ultimate betrayal.

Nothing is as reliable as the ground under their feet.

It would always be there for each step they take, usually.

A thin layer of dry ground may hide a pit of soft mud. Thick soggy ooze entombs both feet as they fall through the dry crust. Once caught, they struggle. They struggle, but they sink.

The mossy surface of a bog may be fun to play on as it pitches and rolls with every jump. But the terror begins when they break through. Then, all the fun belongs to me as the horror reaches levels they never thought possible.

The sand on a beach is a haven for vacationers when they want to get away from their troubles.

I can get a spring or other water flow to soak the sand and flow through it.

I have created a quicksand.

Step into that soggy soup. It will hold you like concrete.

It does not matter how old, kind, or attractive you are.

It will grab you, hold you, pull you under, and kill you. IF – of course – it was not forced to let you go.

Such was the case the day a quiet young Irish girl, Ciara Flynn, stepped into one of my pits.

She just LOVED walking in empty wilderness areas alone.

In her mind, it was her time to be alone, lost in her thoughts and union with me, her beloved Mother Earth.

The empty and tall grass-filled lake was ideal for her adventures.

The lakebed provided numerous isolated areas to explore alone and far away from problems.

Her favorite hangout was the many trails that snaked through the tall grasses and the clearings that dotted the grassy expanse.

It did not matter what time of day or night. The lakebed provided many locations for her to be alone.

Ciara loved the smell of the moss, grass, and fresh air as it blew across the lakebed.

Stars and planets lit the clear summer evenings. She would find a soft patch of ground, lay down on her back, and watch satellites and meteors cross the sky.

She would remember the names of planets, stars, and constellations. She was good at getting most of them right.

She would wonder if anybody out there had visited from space in the past, now, or on the way now.

She wondered if there were other worlds out there like mine.

When overcast, she would look at the bright spots in the cloud cover. She would try to guess what shopping center, business, or parking lot was under it.

Ciara would lie there and listen to the sounds.

She would sometimes do it for hours at a time.

She would listen to the winds as they blew through the grasses.

She would listen to the howls and coos of the wildlife in and around the lakebed.

The distant sounds of barking dogs, lakeside parties, and cars calmed her mind.

She thought she was feeling my presence and communicating with me at some subconscious level.

The girl spent a long afternoon with a young lad a year older, Markus Callaghan.

He was also very Irish.

They never really got physically close to each other. They never really touched.

They usually remained about three or so feet from each other.

It was easy to see that they had strong feelings.

For some reason, they did not know how to say it.

They were not that far from the center of the lake.

It was a remote area where few people had traversed.

I was not as familiar with Mark. But in time, I had a good image of him.

I knew he was a sweet guy and a perfect match for a girl such as Ciara.

There was a distinct red tint to his short and well-groomed hair. Two very green eyes dominated his light-skinned and freckled face.

It was easy to see that he was on his way back from swimming laps at the community park pool.

His bluish-green T-shirt covered over a modest, multi-shaded, green, and smooth nylon Speedo swimsuit.

The fact the lad of average height had the physical build of a good swimmer testified that he could wear such swimwear without looking awkward.

Of course, it was one of the many things Ciara liked about Mark.

Ciara recently started to come to the pool to watch the swimmers – primarily him.

The two could have been brother and sister, but I knew enough that each came from a different part of the same “homeland”.

Her hair was much longer and thicker. The distinctly reddish and wavy hair was past her shoulders to her shoulder blades.

Like Marcus, two greenish eyes dominated her light-skinned and freckled face.

Her T-shirt was bleach white like her multi-layered, multi-rimmed, and intricately designed skirt, which ended halfway down her thigh and well above her knees.

Unlike her companion, she wore white tennis shoes. She could easily catch up to him with his bare feet or sandals.

She stood there with both feet firmly planted on the hardened ground. She kept nervously twisting and held both hands behind her back.

A wide smile spread across her blushing face as she could do not much more than stare upward at his face.

Talking in a choppy voice, he occasionally looked down at the ground, removed a sandal from a foot, and played with pebbles on the ground with his toes.

The conversation was somewhat awkward. But, it was the same for both.

But just as well, they were lost in each other. So nothing else really mattered at that time.

Nonetheless, two things bothered Mark about Ciara.

First, her carefree attitude carried into her worldview and religious beliefs.

Be good and do good, then no harm shall come to you.

Second, rumors had circled about hidden quagmires and quicksand on the lakebed.

Embellished, but most of the stories were true. I was there for every one of them.

Mark knew that Ciara spent a lot of time on the lakebed.

It was a matter of time before she encountered one of these pits.

He brought the issues up a few times and thought that was enough.

Ciara was old enough to handle herself and stay out of trouble.

He would soon not regret listening to the advice of his closest friend and swim team captain, Carl Leyland. Carl told him to go back into the tall grasses. He needed to be there if she fell into trouble.

Carl made that suggestion because that was what happened to his girlfriend and neighbor, Cindy Hoffman.

They separated when the conversation ended.

Mark went homeward. Ciara turned the other way to spend more time on the lakebed.

*

Ciara spent a long time in the shade of a small bush on a small island on the lake.

The sun began to lower in the sky. It was time to get off the lake.

Many trails led out of the lakebed to home.

It would be hard to find her if rescue dogs searched for her. Her scent was on every trail.

She recently started walking a trail past an empty clearing. It was a large patch of dry and cracked mud.

Nobody had ever walked the patch since the lake went dry.

She would stop to look across the expanse each time she passed on the trail.

She stepped onto it before but did not walk far across the surface.

It was an old and mud-filled sinkhole, which was no real danger to anyone unless they stepped into the middle.

The thick pasty mire hidden under the dry surface posed no real danger.

However, you would be in serious trouble if you broke through the surface at the center.

Once my paste wrapped around your feet and struggled, you might as well be stuck deep in tar.

But that was if you panicked and all thought and reason went out the window.

Would Ciara be the young girl who panics?

She liked to explore new areas alone. She was naive and sheltered.

I could not simply reject that possibility.

Once again, she stood on the path. She looked over this field of nothing but dry earth.

Usually, I could almost hear her mind process, sort, and decide what to do next.

But this time, she just stood there and pondered.

It was the first time I had seen her up close.

Then it hit me! I saw what Markus saw in Ciara and why she drove his feelings into a wild confusion.

Reddish tint curled long hair, freckles on a light-skinned face, and two bright green eyes would kill any young man that would notice her.

She did not weigh much at all. But she was tone and firm. She knew how to take care of herself. She ate healthy, looked healthy, and stayed healthy.

Having watched her for a long time throughout her life, I knew that Ciara was the sweetest girl Marcus had ever met.

How she dressed, carried herself, and walked, she was just a young girl with no evil intent. She was as pure as the bleach-white clothing she wore right now.

So there she was, Ciara stood there with both arms to her sides and fingers of each hand playing with the bottom rim of her intricate white skirt.

By any definition, she was drop-dead gorgeous!

I am sorry, Markus Callaghan.

If I could catch her, all that meant nothing to me.

I have my plants to maintain and my wildlife to feed.

The circle of life had to roll. It had no care in the world how kind, ravishing, and innocent anyone or anything was.

She was a first-class meal for my worms and maggots. They would turn her dead and rotting body into rich fertilizer for my plants.

But, my hopes would be all for nothing if she continued her way up the path and homeward.

So, I needed to patiently wait and see what she would do after she stepped out of her mental solitude.

Ok, come to me. Little girl, come to me!

I did notice that she was looking skyward with a look of detached bewilderment across her face.

She was looking at the shadow play of the sun against the clouds as time grew closer to twilight.

I thought that she wanted to get a better view of the sky.

What better place than the center of my dry and empty clearing?

It seemed like she read my thoughts!

She took one look across the open expanse, stepped off the trail, and into the dry and cracked surface of the pit.

Yes! Yes! Come! You can see more from out here!

My anticipation spiked to high off-the-chart levels.

You can see the whole sky from the center!

I loved the thrill of a hunt. In this case, the ambush, to sit and wait till the intended victim fell into the trap!

That’s right! Closer! Yes closer!

Then came my favorite part when the victim desperately fights in vain to escape the grip of the beast as the poor thing is ingested alive and well aware of what was happening to it.

Was this one of these occasions?

There was still so much that needed to happen for everything to fall into place.

Sure enough, she was briskly walking to the center of my pit.

YEA! YEA! COME ON!

I was so excited that it hurt.

Sometimes, she would look down at the surface.

She had no clue what was waiting for her just under her feet.

COME ON! I HAVE SUCH A SPECIAL SURPRISE FOR YOU!

First, I could feel the bottom of her perfectly white sneakers echo through the solid ground with each firm step.

Then, waves began to cross deep inside the pit as she walked across soggier ground.

I realized in a sadistic thrill that the surface began to mound and shift.

The first thought that something was unusual and wrong crossed her thoughts as she bounced with each step. But, it was not enough for any alarms to sound off in her head.

I did not have words to describe my wild state of mind!

I felt a painful joy as the shifting ground threw her off balance.

Every alarm sounded in her head.

It was too late.

She gave off a slight shriek when she stumbled forward.

Ciara flailed her arms to keep her balance.

The dry ground under her feet began to collapse.

Shock flashed across her face and exploded throughout her body.

A mass of chaos and confusion slammed into a mind of peace and tranquility.

Splat!

I was ecstatic when one foot landed into perfectly thick and pasty muck.

I had to act fast to ensure that Ciara would not escape.

The whole muddy ground shifted and rolled.

A wave of fear overcame a mind of chaos and confusion.

Meanwhile, my thick mud wrapped around each tennis shoe.

There was a chorus of gurgling and pops as the wet muck swallowed her feet and closed onto her legs.

Fight it! Fight it! You must fight it!

I just had to be sure that each foot pushed deeper as she desperately tried to pull free.

Then Ciara stopped.

Her mind was a mix of fear and confusion as she desperately sorted through her thoughts to figure out what happened.

It gave me a moment to pause to assess the situation.

It was way too good to be true!

I had the bare legs of a lovely girl in a death grip of very heavy, sticky, and wet mud.

Her skin was soft and smooth to the touch. It was no wonder why Marcus wanted to hold her hand and caress the cheeks of her face with his fingers.

Her muscles were firm. Long walks and other exercises made them very tender.

Ciara was not strong enough to break my grip on her legs.

She had what was needed to put up one hell of a fight for her life.

Looking at the depth and the thickness of the muck that held her, it would be a long and vigorous battle.

It would be a fight I was ready for and knew I could win.

I was so thrilled. I felt intoxicated with excitement.

She looked down at the mud. The last air bubbles caught by the closing muck popped on the surface.

The surface of the wet muck reflected the bright daylight.

It pulsed with each move Ciara made as she tugged on each leg.

The mire around her seemed to sparkle as the quagmire pitched and rolled.

Her face and eyes glowed with bewilderment. She did not know what was happening.

A moment of peace and tranquility had become something horrible or far worse.

I could feel that she was frightened. She felt trapped and confused.

Frightened? Trapped? Confused?

She had NO IDEA what I was going to put her through.

This sweet and sheltered girl was not ready to deal with the sheer horror that was to come.

Nature began to take over, dominate, and swallow her alive.

The pit was going to suck her kicking and screaming to a painful death so violent that her innocent mind could not comprehend, let alone deal with it.

Ciara did not realize she was doomed. Escape was already impossible.

Right now, the only thing she seemed to think about was to get out of the quagmire and go home.

Ciara looked down at the mud with a look of determination.

She could not break the feelings of fear and forbodance.

She reached down with both hands to grab a leg above her knee and began to pull.

She knew she had to free herself before something horrible would happen.

The muck around her shifted and rolled with each pull.

This is great! This is great! Keep fighting! Harder! Harder!

The rolling ground was very unsettling. The desperate young girl realized her situation was far worse than she thought.

The pool of muck under and around her was deep and unforgiving.

She frantically groaned with each pull and switched her hands to the other leg as soon as she realized that the effort was forcing the other foot deeper.

It continued back and forth until I had both legs up to her knees.

Her frustration and desperation grew.

"No! No!" A soft and fearful voice begged for mercy. "Please, no!"

I felt the conflict in her mind as Ciara repressed the realization that struggling was worse than futile.

Two precious green eyes glowed with the terrifying thought that she was sinking and could not free herself.

The action rose to the next level when she fought to keep her knees above the sucking mire.

She began to give off frantic but muted grunts and whines as she struggled.

The muck responded with an occasional pop and slurp.

Her cute knees bounced up and down with the surface of the mud.

The mud mounded each time she pulled on a leg. The suction was so strong that the quagmire did not give up an inch as she fought.

I held her knees in the thick muck as each foot sank deeper.

Ciara began to cry softly as her precious green eyes started to fill with tears.

Fear, dread, and desperation intensified. It began to push at her low limits of tolerance.

She thought of the many hours into the next day before she was free of the quagmire and on her way home.

The thought that she was sinking in a lethal quicksand DID cross her mind. She repressed it as too horrifying to entertain.

"Help me! Please, help me! Help me!"

Not wanting to be stuck, alone, and be exposed to the elements overnight – Ciara panicked.

I was already ready, waiting, and eager for the fight.

The look of deep fear began to show from the strain on her face.

I could feel the desperation burn through her body as she rapidly jerked left and right.

I could hear her muted and choppy screams as they echoed off of the ground and outward across the pit.

I could see the terror in her glowing green eyes as the mudflat rolled and shifted to fight her efforts to escape.

I tried to make the agony last as long as possible. But, even I could not prevent the inevitable.

BLOOP!

That was the last time she would see her knees again, so I thought.

The thrill of victory was so stimulating. The sensing of the agony of defeat was even more invigorating.

She looked down at her legs in morbid shock, dread, and fear.

Her legs were in the deep and tight grip of the quagmire.

She screamed in tortured desperation.

Her knees were mine now. But there was so much more of her body I wanted to steal from her.

I had all night to do that.

Time was on my side. I was going to use as much of it as I could to suck her deeper.

Then POW!

There was an explosion of desperate gasps, screams, and struggling.

Ciara had flashed into a wild, mindless, and uncontrolled panic.

She violently twisted and turned as she thrashed her entire body side to side, up and down, and back and forth.

She desperately pulled on each leg as hard as she could.

The whole pit moved in the chaos. It rolled from the surface to the deepest part of the pit.

The gurgling of the pit assaulted her ears.

Terror radiated from her face and eyes.

There was nothing but desperation and morbid fear in her mind.

Both hands flew through the air as she violently twisted and turned.

Desperately wanting to scream, all she could do was muted whines, heavy gasps, and even a few heavy grunts.

I needed to hold on to each leg as it was pulled deeper into the mire by the suction.

Her situation became increasingly desperate the deeper she sank into the muck.

Once again, she stopped.

Ciara stood there with both hands off to her sides.

Her muscles relaxed as her heart slowed with each deep breath.

The storm that tore through her mind began to calm.

She was starting to think straight again.

She slowly turned side to side and looked down at the thick mud holding her legs.

She had sunk to the point where the bottom rim of her cute, elegant, multi-rimed, and bleach-white skirt barely touched the surface of the mud.

Her mind processed what she saw. She realized that her erratic struggle made her situation worse than futile. She assessed her situation and laid the foundation of what she needed to do to get out of the quagmire.

After pondering, she lowered her hand and gently caressed the soggy ground around her legs with the tips of her tender fingers.

She lifted her hand to look at each finger.

A vile wave of repulsion rolled through her body as she desperately shook her hand to get the mud off her fingers.

She did not want to wipe her hand on her T-shirt because it would no longer be bleach-white.

It was the moment I recognized something very peculiar about Ciara.

As much as she wanted to “commune” with and become “one” with her “Mother Earth”, she could not stand getting muddy.

How can one be “at one” with Mother Earth and be bleach white?

She always wanted to deal with me under HER terms.

Oh really?

Ciara, you WILL get muddy!

You WILL get your wish to commune with and be “at one” with your precious god and be part of the “circle of life” but under MY terms!

All you are to me is a carcass and the next meal for my maggots and worms so they can provide the nutrients to grow my plants.

Pockets of gas and water deep in the pit moved.

Gasses rose through the shifting mud and popped on the surface.

The deadly quicksand secured the unbreakable suction holding her legs as she slowly moved them in the deep mud.

Suddenly, she slipped an inch deeper into the pit.

The bottom of her skirt began to gather on the surface.

There was a muted scream. It was music to my ears.

A repugnant wave of shock and terror flooded her body.

Both hands frantically waved above her head as she looked at the ground around her.

She did not know whether to scream or cry. She gasped as she tried to do both.

The desperation radiated from her face and shined from her precious eyes as her mind worked on escape plans.

She began to feel that this was no ordinary pool of mud.

It was way more sinister than that.

Eventually, the deadly nature of her ordeal began to come into focus.

“Oh god, no!”

I was thrilled when the morbid realization that something underneath was pulling her downward became prominent. She could not repress the thought anymore.

“Please no!”

Despite all repulsion to mud, Ciara dropped her hands and began to push downward on the surface.

She leaned backward to push on solid mud that had not broken in the struggle.

I became alarmed when she realized she could escape if she fell on her back and worked her legs out.

Her clothing was bleach white. She hated getting dirty.

I just had to remind her that it was too gross.

She was too clean. The last thing she wanted to do was lay down on her back in the gooey mud.

She grunted and groaned as she twisted and pulled on her legs.

Her efforts seemed to work when she pulled herself a few inches out of the pit.

Oh no, Ciara! I am not going to give you up THAT easily.

Her anxiety grew as she realized that she was not extracting herself as fast as she wanted.

The sounds of popping and shifting mud assaulted her ears and rattled her nerves.

A powerful wave of fear rolled through her body and flashed from her eyes.

It was the sound of something underneath sucking her deeper.

An urge to panic forced her to struggle harder.

Her struggling only forced her deeper into the mire.

Baby, I got things FAR worse than that. What you are experiencing is just the beginning. You are a toy to me. My entertainment has just begun.

I began to caress the bare skin of her legs with tentacles of water, soft muck, and air bubbles.

A gross feeling overcame Ciara, followed by a strong, repulsive, and cold feeling of rejection.

She did not want any part of what she was feeling and experiencing.

She was in no position to have a choice. Her legs belonged to me now. I was not letting go.

I was right about Ciara. She was never a disappointment.

The fair skin of both her legs was soft and smooth to the tough.

The muscles of her calves and thighs were like the highest quality prime rib.

I have watched many lions and other predators lick their food before they bite it to savor the taste.

I was experiencing that glorious feeling as she fought to break free of my slobbering muck.

She put up a fight against the grip of my pit.

She exhausted herself and stopped struggling and pushing.

It was my turn! It was my turn to show who was in control of the situation.

Powerful suction created by her fight steadily pulled her legs back into the pit.

The quagmire began to slurp and suck.

The surface of the mire drew closer to her body and pulled her skirt against her legs.

The wet muck closed over the lower rims of her skirt and pulled her in deeper in one big gulp.

Another intense wave of terror rolled through her body and mind. It was far beyond what she had ever felt in her short life.

The intensity of the pain was so powerful that her eyes seemed to bulge as she watched and felt herself sink back into the mud.

The sobbing and terrified girl knew that she was stuck. She was not strong enough to pull herself free from the quagmire.

Alone, nobody was nearby to pull her free.

I was amazed at the entertainment a spotless and sheltered young virgin girl could provide.

I enjoyed watching her deal with something so horrifying that it was well beyond anything she could comprehend.

The intensity of her agony was so energizing.

The sound of her crying was so refreshing.

I could continue. But, I digress.

In desperation, she leaned back again and pressed on the ground behind her.

The ground began to break up.

The mud oozed between her fingers, but it was solid enough for her to push down to pull her legs out of the mire again.

There was a bigger problem than being stuck in the middle of nowhere till daylight.

Ciara finally realized that something far more sinister was happening to her.

She still refused to comprehend the obvious.

Isolated and alone, she was caught and sinking into a lethal quicksand.

She knew the endgame would be terrifying if she failed to free herself.

Yet, she still refused to entertain the horrifying idea that it was going to kill her.

The tension was almost unbearable for Ciara.

The desperation and fear grew far beyond anything she had ever experienced.

There were loud gasps and sobs as she looked downward at the muck in deep horror.

Tears began to fall from her Irish green eyes and roll down her stressed face.

There were hard grunts and twisting of her hips as she pulled on her legs.

I was unwilling to give up what the quicksand had already swallowed.

Rim by mud-stained rim, more of her skirt pulled free of the mud with her legs.

The pit complained by popping and gurgling.

The suction broke.

The quagmire allowed Ciara to pull a few inches more of her legs free.

A ray of hope flashed through her mind.

Chunks of mud fell off her lap and back onto the soggy ground.

It triggered a wave of nausea in her stomach. It was another reaction from her that I enjoyed.

But then, there was no more solid earth behind her to push upon for leverage.

As before, her legs and skirt slid back into the pit.

The soft muck mounded and rolled as she fought against the suction.

"No, no!" She screamed in desperation and panic. "Please, no!"

She desperately sobbed and frantically struggled. She pushed down on the mud with her hands.

No amount of pushing and struggling would prevent it.

Another strong wave of nausea twisted her stomach.

A rush of sheer terror screamed through her young, tender, and innocent mind.

She wanted to scream. But, the only sounds that came out of her mouth were loud chokes as her throat refused to let go of the maelstrom.

I swallowed more of her body than she fought to break free.

Both legs vanished in a loud slurp as the pit began to consume her hips and precious skirt.

Ciara leaned forward to press on whatever solid ground she could find in front of her.

Nothing but pure desperation and terror filled her mind.

Tears poured down her face as she began to sob.

The surface of the muck shifted with her twisting hips. Waves pulsed outward through the ground as she struggled.

“Help me? Help me?”

She quietly begged between desperate groans with her sweet and soft voice.

“Help me. Please, help me.”

Is that the best you can do, Ciara? You were an easy catch. You are going to be an easy kill.

There was no leverage forward.

There was nothing she could do.

The gurgling and shifting mire mocked her desperate whimpers of terror.

She began to cry as she watched the rest of her rocking hips vanish into the soft mud.

She looked downward just in time to see the top of her lovely, bleach-white, intricately designed, and multi-rimmed skirt vanish into the sucking muck.

Every predator lives for the fight a prey puts up as it fights for its life.

Every predator longs for the intoxicating fear and dread a prey feels as it realizes its fight is in vain.

The predator feels a glorious feeling when the prey grasps the certainty of a violent death.

But the reality was that it could not last forever.

The end goal was ingestion and digestion, so we had to move to the next step of the process.

So, there she was. Ciara was still and not moving.

Tears rolled from her eyes, streamed down her face, then fell onto the mud as she looked downward.

I wondered why she cringed as she watched the dingy muck soak into her bright white T-shirt around her waist.

She would sink a little bit deeper with a few twists and pulls on her legs.

The soggy muck would soak into more of her T-shirt.

Shaking mud off her hands, Ciara looked upwards at the clouds in the sky as they darkened by the setting sun.

Her heart pounded. She sighed deeply.

She still had a long ordeal ahead of her.

So, I was glad when she relaxed to gather her energy.

A classic story was unfolding.

It was the story of a terrified, young, and beautiful girl in the unforgiving grip of an ugly and dirty beast.

I was enjoying every moment of it.

She was helpless. Someone had to find and rescue her.

Fortunately for me, both of us knew that she was isolated. Nobody was around to play the part of the hero.

Occasionally, she ran her arm across her face to wipe off a tear.

I felt Ciara fall into a moment of clarity.

Her mind cleared as if she reached a point of surrender.

Her heart slowed, her lungs relaxed, and her stomach unwound as she looked at the tall grasses and mud around her.

Her mind was in a calm and meditative state of nothingness momentarily.

Nothing she tried to do to escape from the quagmire worked.

Furthermore, everything she thought and believed in seemed to be in question.

She was a clean and sweet girl. Why was something this horrible happening to her?

It seemed that she wanted to start her entire thought process from a blank sheet of paper.

With both hands helplessly off to her sides, she opened her eyes and looked straight down at the ground in front of her.

She had sunk to the middle of her waist in thick, chunky, and soupy muck.

She watched it move around her body with each breath she took.

I waited in eager anticipation of what she was going to do next.

She balled both fists, closed her eyes, and dropped her head forward with her chin against her chest.

Her face began to tighten with stress. Tears gathered in her eyes.

A powerful wave of deep sorrow filled her mind and flowed through her body.

The sweet sound of whimpering echoed across the pit as Ciara cried.

She was trapped. She was not going to pull herself out of the quagmire.

She was being swallowed alive by a powerful and unforgiving quicksand.

There was no way out. She had passed the point of no return.

It would be a very lonely, slow, and miserable death with no one around even to comfort her.

The planet which she had adored turned against her.

She counted each family member as they came to mind and saw each reaction to the news that she was dead.

It was a thought that made her shudder with morbid sorrow.

She whimpered and cried in fear as tears rolled down her precious face.

She counted each of her friends and their reactions as well.

For a moment, the sense of loss and bewilderment was so strong that it locked her mind in a moment of misery.

Once again, she began to sob and sob hard.

Then there was Mark, ever so sweet Markus.

Each thought brought an unbearable pain as she recalled each moment she spent alone with him.

She realized how deeply she felt for him. She finally realized that he had the same feelings for her.

She shook her hands again as all her emotions built up. More tears rolled off her face.

Ciara closed her eyes, choked, and cringed as she violently shook both fists in front of her.

Regrets and missed opportunities flooded her mind.

Overloaded and boiling over, Ciara could not handle it anymore.

A tear-filled scream shook her body, the mud, and everything around her. She realized she would never have a chance to see them, talk to them, or even say goodbye.

She even grabbed the hair on both sides of her head with her mud-stained fingers when she recalled the times Mark had warned her about the quicksand and quagmires scattered across the lakebed.

Of course, it was a warning she willingly tossed aside with the fleeting thought of an innocent young lady believing she was a good person and thus immortal.

Nothing bad could or would happen to her.

It was a while before she calmed down again.

She would again wipe the tears off her face.

For the first time, Ciara and I connected.

“Why?” A soft and tear-soaked voice asked me. “Why?”

It was just the way I wanted the conversation.

One way.

*

Ciara, oh Ciara, you are so beautiful. You are such a trophy.

Your struggle excites me. Your morbid terror is intoxicating.

Your tears are like a sweet wine. The sound of your crying is music to the ears.

You are strong and healthy. You are not strong enough to escape the grip of my quicksand.

Yes, it is a quicksand. I will suck you under and leave no trace behind.

You are such a sweet and kind person. You have gone out of your way to share kindness and caring.

There is no thought of evil or harm within you. You run from those thoughts at every opportunity.

Your soft voice and smooth mannerisms show what kind of wonderful person you are.

I know that Markus is someone whom you would like to spend the rest of your life with.

He would have been a lucky man.

The two of you would do so well together. The two of you were a perfect match for each other. The two of you were such soul mates.

That will never happen. I have you now. I will never let you go.

The muscles on your legs are strong, firm, and tender.

Your skin is so silky smooth. It drives me wild as my tentacles slide across your firm legs.

I want you all to myself.

Nobody else will ever have you or see you ever again.

Oh, precious girl. You are now mine. You are mine now forever.

*

Maybe I said too much or too little.

Maybe I should have left out some details or even added some.

I did not get the results that I expected.

Ciara was strong and healthy. She could put up a LONG hard fight.

She did not move. All her muscles were as tense as they could be. Her hands were in front of her in the grip of tight fists.

Her whole body shook.

Her eyes closed tight as a wild storm grew in her mind.

There were no thoughts. It was just an entertaining combination of agony, pain, and intense fear building to an explosive climax.

Then came the scream.

DAMN, THAT GIRL HAS A SET OF LUNGS!

It was from a sweet young Irish girl with high hopes and a bright future.

Her future would end here in a fatal pool of muddy quicksand.

In a just world, she would not have a lonely and violent death.

She had no reason to believe that anyone would come to this remote portion of the lakebed anytime soon.

Alone, nothing mattered because nobody was going to save her.

Lost in a mindless hysteria, Ciara screamed, violently twisted, and thrashed. Her hands slashed through the empty air.

The mire shifted and rolled around her as she helplessly struggled.

The muck slowly rolled up her waist as she slipped deeper into the muddy quicksand.

Quiet and soft-spoken, she apparently could let off quite a storm if she finally realized she was in mortal danger.

I never saw that coming.

I lost Cindy Hoffman and others this same way. Their screaming drew too much attention to themselves and their situation. It was not long before that swimmer named Carl Leyland was drawn to her screams and pulled her out of my grip.

I had to work fast. I had to get Ciara to stop screaming and break into a mindless panic.

I shifted some mud deep underneath her feet and sent some fresh and smelly gas bubbles up the bare skin of her legs.

It was enough to get her attention and draw her back to her most immediate task of fighting the lethal quicksand.

Ciara frantically lifted and pushed her feet downward against the suction.

The muck shifted and rolled around her as she slowly sank.

The quagmire seemed to mock her as it countered every move she made.

The irony did not escape her thoughts as she watched the soft muck fight against her.

The horrible thought made her want to fight harder. It only made her sink deeper into the wet and churning mire.

She threw her arms to each side as she twisted her body.

Her soft but desperate sobbing whines and grunts were quiet enough.

I had to keep her quiet. Too much noise would attract people who would realize what kind of trouble she was in.

I had to keep her quiet until she had sunk enough to choke on mud.

Two wide, green, blood-shot eyes on a tight red face blindly looked at the rolling pit around her.

Ciara broke into another chorus of hysterical sobbing.

Sobbing tears continued to flow down her face and splash onto the soft mire around her.

Her waist vanished into the soggy mud with a whoosh of bubbles and shifting muck.

She covered her face with both hands and gave off a scream that shook her body.

She then pulled her hands away to look downward, then to the left, then right.

Both hands clawed at the air around her. She looked upward and set off another hellish scream.

The clouds above her darkened with the setting sun and the ending of her life.

All hope was gone.

Two eyes filled with tears glowed with the belief that her life was over.

Only the passing clouds would hear her violent and morbid sobs for a life once filled with hope and dreams.

I sensed two bare feet pounding down a nearby trail. I already knew who it was.

Once again, my luck ran out.

Marcus was on the lakebed again. He realized that Ciara was in lethal trouble.

The fact that Ciara was at the end of one of many paths was in my favor.

I just had to keep her in a violent struggle. She was too busy fighting a losing battle for her life.

Screams may echo to add to his confusion. But, he would eventually find the source and pull his sweetheart free of my grip.

I would have the perfect kill if I timed everything just right.

Imagine the glorious agony he would feel as he only arrived just in time to see her gorgeous red hair on the top of her head or the fingers on a hand vanish into the muddy quagmire.

Imagine the sweet anguish he would endure clawing at the wet mud as her last air bubbles popped on the surface.

Another shift in the mud deep underneath her feet sent a surge of water upward. It bubbled and flowed on the surface.

“No! No!” A shrieking scream echoed across the lakebed. “No, please no!”

Ciara slowly slipped deeper as she waved both hands above her head.

The quicksand reached upward and climbed up two more ribs on her chest.

Desperate shrieks punctuated several gasps as Ciara pushed downward several times with her hands and feet as she tried to lift her way out of the sucking death trap.

She frantically shook both hands free of mud, looked upward, and let out another howling and sobbing scream.

Ok, Markus definitely should have heard that one!

She lifted her legs and pushed her feet downward as she tried to climb out of the quagmire.

She was now up to her chest and helplessly sinking deeper.

There was no organized thought or awareness of what was around her.

Just terror.

The only thing that came close to any train of thought were visions of the horrible death that awaited her when her golden face and red hair vanished into the muddy quicksand.

Two sweet eyes looked upward as both arms fell into the mud.

She could only wildly, loudly, and uncontrollably sob.

There was enough noise for Mark to find Ciara.

Like any good lifeguard in training, he brought a rope.

He dropped his sandals next to a large log he had just located in the grass and began to tie one end of the rope to the driftwood.

Ciara had no idea her sweet and lovable Markus was behind her.

Unlike when Carl rescued Cindy, Mark did not call out to Ciara for some reason.

He stepped closer to her as he laid the rope across the dry and cracked mud.

She just wildly shook her head and screamed as she slammed her arms down and into the soft mud in front of her in frustration.

Ciara whined in terror and clawed at the mud in front of her.

She jerked her body forward and backward. The ground around her mounded and sank as her legs struggled against the suction underneath.

“Ciara, do not move!” Mark called out. “You are making it worse.”

Controlled, Mark was not scared. He just knew what he had to do to rescue his maiden-in-distress.

A storm of panic, chaos, and horror flooded her mind. His words did not even register in her mind.

“CIARA! DO NOT MOVE!”

“Mark? Mark?” Looking from side to side in a moment of confusion. “Mark, where are you?”

Mark had crouched down low with the rope carefully coiled in his hand.

He gently tossed the rope. It uncoiled.

“Crap!” It lands two feet short of her back.

Stuck in the mud, Ciara could not turn around to reach for the rope. She would not even know it was there.

“MARK! MARK! HELP ME, PLEASE!”

His basic lifeguard training kicks in.

Reach? Too far!

Throw? Too short!

That left one option. Go!

“MARK! MARK!” Ciara desperately cried and begged for help. “WHERE ARE Y---!”

His timing could not be any better.

Mark pulled off his T-shirt, dropped it on the ground, and took a few steps backward.

Steps forward broke into a short run.

After a leap, his legs splashed into the mud directly behind Ciara.

Ciara briefly screamed in shock. She was unaware that anyone was even close to her.

Sitting on both legs, Mark wrapped both arms under her arms and across her chest.

She could only lean her head backward onto his chest and gasp for air as her heart pounded with each beat.

It was a while before Ciara relaxed and caught her breath. His soft voice worked to calm his sweet girl down.

Eventually, she calmed down. The emotions began to build.

The tears began to roll again as she began to cry.

“It’s ok. It’s ok. Let it go. Let it go. You are not alone.”

Mark sank into the mud as he sat on both legs. He was deep enough to hold her tight, put his chin on her shoulder, and softly spoke.

“I’ve got you now. You are safe. You are going to be ok.”

It took a while before Mark to get Ciara to stop crying.

The long ordeal of extracting her began.

Mark had one hand on the rope as he helped Ciara break the suction the muck had on her legs.

He was disturbed almost to the point of crying over how Ciara was traumatized. He calmed her down and reassured her that she would get out.

Wishing no harm to her, he had a difficult time dealing with how the ordeal had tormented the sheltered girl.

He was not ready for the deep feelings that surfaced when he realized the depth of her anguish.

He also had to come to terms with how he felt about Ciara.

The fact that she could have died made him stop a few times to shake his head and take a moment to refocus on the rescue attempt.

He reassured Ciara that he would stop until she was free and on solid ground.

Her legs were free.

They turned around in the mud and had a solid grip on the rope.

I made sure they had a hard time pulling themselves free. I was fighting to the very end to keep what was rightfully mine.

They were exhausted when they finally extracted themselves.

They were flat on the dry and cracked mud next to each other. Mark held Ciara as she sobbed face down on the dry ground.

The days when the couple would stay three feet from each other were gone.

From then on, they were inseparable.

With her worldview damaged, Ciara spent many months looking over her shoulder for whatever lurked around the corner or in the dark.

But, she was wiser and more cautious after the accident.

I have to admit that I am quite a matchmaker.

Nothing brings more things into focus than a brush with death.

Very few encounters match the long and agonizing trial that a lethal and thick quicksand would serve to those unaware of the full complexities of life and even death.

Nothing shines more light on a relationship than the realization that someone who you had hidden deep feelings for could have been dead by morning.

I look at the people who have crossed the lakebed already. Some of them take shortcuts after the encouragement of friends and family.

Many of these people were in relations themselves.

Carl Leyland solidified his relationship with Cindy Hoffman when he had to carry her off the lakebed.

Markus Callaghan also secured his relationship with Ciara Flynn after he helped her off the lakebed.

So many other couples need to understand the depth of their relationship.

I need to entice them onto the lakebed with the chance for solitude.

So many people can use the trails across the lakebed as a shortcut between the county park and other neighborhoods.

Many of these people need to reevaluate their lives. They need to adjust their priorities.

Between the number of people who have and will make the crossing and the number of mud pits in their way, I have plenty of opportunities to provide these services.

Then maybe I can find my trophy girl to love and cherish.

My worms and maggots would enjoy the feast as well.

Image done with DreamUp

Very nice story and nice image, too!