Predator By DJ Heath

The travel brochure displays an idyllic medieval woodland and the facade of a 14th-century castle, so I head off to explore this highly anticipated tourist attraction.

Six-foot high grass shrouds the path that leads into the woodland, and the entrance-way is a gaping black maw, like a portal to another universe. A prickling sensation crawls over my skin but despite a hot flush of fear, I venture into the darkness.

The lazy path meanders through the matted undergrowth, and gnarled trees like silent sentinels bar the way to the Stygian black depths behind them. Off to the right, the castle wall is no more than a few gray lichen-covered stones that lay scattered among decaying plant life.

Disappointed, I turn back to the path and my heart wrenches violently. A naked man, pale and gaunt, stands on the other side. His hand reaches down to his nether regions and begins a rapid agitation while his eyes glaze over as he stares at me. He releases his erect manhood and his breath pulsates out like white smoke, evaporating into the frigid air.

I dart towards the entrance, my heart booms like a bass drum and my breath coagulates in my throat. His feet pound behind me and knife-like fingers clutch at my jacket, but I am redeemed by gushing warm sunlight as I stumble out of the woodland and collide with a young couple and their laughing blonde-haired children. Their bright smiles quickly fade at my ashen face and incoherent babbling for help.

in Sydney, New South Wales, Australia


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