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Description
When I was young, every hunter's moon my friends and I would walk the old overgrown path to the shores of the bayou, and sit there and watch the spectacle across the water. Though most of it was obscured by the trees, we could still see fire lighting up in every color of the rainbow, hear the jolly tunes being played on an old barrel organ, smell the scents of fresh popcorn and sugared candy apples wafting into our nostrils when the wind was just right. We could hear laughter from an audience and sometimes - when we were lucky - we could even see the man himself dancing and jumping among the trees. Greasy Keith. Cast in shadows against the light of the fire, but we knew it was him.
We told ourselves that one day we would cross the bayou and join him on one of the festivities.

Grandma didn't like that idea one bit. She had known of Greasy Keith's Shack of Wonders and the many parties that were held there sure enough, but she seemed uncomfortable just mentioning the name. "Wasn't natural" she would mutter. "Smelled like fae trickery from the old country." When we tried to argue it actually smelled like candy and popcorn, she huffed.
We weren't stupid however, we knew something was up. Nobody in town had ever heard of the fantastical shindigs being held by Greasy Keith's old shack, and no kids from our school even lied about attending. We just assumed the hunter's moon celebrations were extremely exclusive, maybe only intended for fancy folk -- out-of-towners.

The next hunter's moon I had arranged a small rowboat, just big enough to fit the four of us. This time we would attend the festivities ourselves and tell Grandma and the kids at school how wrong they were. While we took turns rowing to the other side of the bayou, we fantasized about what would await us. A large feast, shows with acrobats and exotic animals, magician performances from far away lands.
But the closer we came to shore, the more the festivities seemed to be further inland than we had originally anticipated. From our side of the water, the shack would have been close to the shore, just barely among the trees, but now it appeared it was actually closer to the swamplands than we thought.
As we moored our boat to a thick tree, we noticed we could scarcely even hear the music anymore. The light of the fire was now far, far into the woods and the shack was nowhere to be seen.
Agreeing we've gotten too far to go back now, we ventured further into the swamp. Though as we walked and walked for well over an hour, we didn't appear to be any nearer to the light and the music than when we were when we just got ashore.
We didn't come well prepared, so I was the only one who brought a flashlight and I guided my three other companions over the treacherous mud, still following the - now dimmed - many-colored light, though it wasn't long before a thick fog had welled up around us and the light had disappeared from our vision.

It was only now that we realized that we were hopelessly lost.

It was only now that we realized that the youngest of us - Caleb - was no longer walking behind us.

In a panick, we started yelling into the mist and the darkness - desperately hoping for a response - scouring the mud looking for any trace of Caleb. A twig cracked somewhere in the infinite blackness across the trees. We ran towards the sound, screaming his name, thinking he had just wandered off.
Though only two voices were sounding now. Joe - who had walked just beside me - had vanished.

I turned to my final companion - Johnny - only to see him being dragged into the darkness by unseen hands - so rapidly he didn't even have the reflex to scream.

Too scared to breathe, I looked around frantically - not entirely certain if I was looking for any sign of my friends or the fastest way back to the boat. It was only then that I finally caught sight of the many-colored light once again appearing through the fog. Civilization, I thought, help! I could go there and assemble a rescue party.
But my hopes were quickly dashed as I saw the light rise up from the swamp nearly seven feet - and I realized it was way closer to me than I had guessed.
I only got a glimpse of the creature as it clasped its boney, clammy fingers around my face and the smell of musk and rot overtook me. Covered in multi-colored light like a mockery of a Christmas decoration, bloated like a long-drowned corpse and more appendages than a human should have...

It should go without saying I was never seen again.

However, if you were in the know, and you would listen closely as you watched the festivities from the shores of the bayou on a hunter's moon, you could faintly hear four additional voices laughing and cheering in the audience --- endlessly.

_____________________________________________________________________________

  💬   JOIN MY DISCORD: discord.gg/RCCcR8v FOR FANTASY-HORROR ART DISCUSSION,
CHALLENGES AND A TON MORE.
🎦   Want to see me work live? I'm trying to stream every sunday starting from 2PM CET
        on Picarto and Twitch !
👕   Check out my Teespring for unique, spooky designs on tshirts, hoodies and sweaters!

Portfolio ♦ Picarto   ♦ Twitch ♦ Tumblr ♦ Instagram ♦ Facebook ♦ YouTube ♦ Artstation ♦ Twitter ♦ DeviantArt ♦ NewGrounds

Description
When I was young, every hunter's moon my friends and I would walk the old overgrown path to the shores of the bayou, and sit there and watch the spectacle across the water. Though most of it was obscured by the trees, we could still see fire lighting up in every color of the rainbow, hear the jolly tunes being played on an old barrel organ, smell the scents of fresh popcorn and sugared candy apples wafting into our nostrils when the wind was just right. We could hear laughter from an audience and sometimes - when we were lucky - we could even see the man himself dancing and jumping among the trees. Greasy Keith. Cast in shadows against the light of the fire, but we knew it was him.
We told ourselves that one day we would cross the bayou and join him on one of the festivities.

Grandma didn't like that idea one bit. She had known of Greasy Keith's Shack of Wonders and the many parties that were held there sure enough, but she seemed uncomfortable just mentioning the name. "Wasn't natural" she would mutter. "Smelled like fae trickery from the old country." When we tried to argue it actually smelled like candy and popcorn, she huffed.
We weren't stupid however, we knew something was up. Nobody in town had ever heard of the fantastical shindigs being held by Greasy Keith's old shack, and no kids from our school even lied about attending. We just assumed the hunter's moon celebrations were extremely exclusive, maybe only intended for fancy folk -- out-of-towners.

The next hunter's moon I had arranged a small rowboat, just big enough to fit the four of us. This time we would attend the festivities ourselves and tell Grandma and the kids at school how wrong they were. While we took turns rowing to the other side of the bayou, we fantasized about what would await us. A large feast, shows with acrobats and exotic animals, magician performances from far away lands.
But the closer we came to shore, the more the festivities seemed to be further inland than we had originally anticipated. From our side of the water, the shack would have been close to the shore, just barely among the trees, but now it appeared it was actually closer to the swamplands than we thought.
As we moored our boat to a thick tree, we noticed we could scarcely even hear the music anymore. The light of the fire was now far, far into the woods and the shack was nowhere to be seen.
Agreeing we've gotten too far to go back now, we ventured further into the swamp. Though as we walked and walked for well over an hour, we didn't appear to be any nearer to the light and the music than when we were when we just got ashore.
We didn't come well prepared, so I was the only one who brought a flashlight and I guided my three other companions over the treacherous mud, still following the - now dimmed - many-colored light, though it wasn't long before a thick fog had welled up around us and the light had disappeared from our vision.

It was only now that we realized that we were hopelessly lost.

It was only now that we realized that the youngest of us - Caleb - was no longer walking behind us.

In a panick, we started yelling into the mist and the darkness - desperately hoping for a response - scouring the mud looking for any trace of Caleb. A twig cracked somewhere in the infinite blackness across the trees. We ran towards the sound, screaming his name, thinking he had just wandered off.
Though only two voices were sounding now. Joe - who had walked just beside me - had vanished.

I turned to my final companion - Johnny - only to see him being dragged into the darkness by unseen hands - so rapidly he didn't even have the reflex to scream.

Too scared to breathe, I looked around frantically - not entirely certain if I was looking for any sign of my friends or the fastest way back to the boat. It was only then that I finally caught sight of the many-colored light once again appearing through the fog. Civilization, I thought, help! I could go there and assemble a rescue party.
But my hopes were quickly dashed as I saw the light rise up from the swamp nearly seven feet - and I realized it was way closer to me than I had guessed.
I only got a glimpse of the creature as it clasped its boney, clammy fingers around my face and the smell of musk and rot overtook me. Covered in multi-colored light like a mockery of a Christmas decoration, bloated like a long-drowned corpse and more appendages than a human should have...

It should go without saying I was never seen again.

However, if you were in the know, and you would listen closely as you watched the festivities from the shores of the bayou on a hunter's moon, you could faintly hear four additional voices laughing and cheering in the audience --- endlessly.

_____________________________________________________________________________

  💬   JOIN MY DISCORD: discord.gg/RCCcR8v FOR FANTASY-HORROR ART DISCUSSION,
CHALLENGES AND A TON MORE.
🎦   Want to see me work live? I'm trying to stream every sunday starting from 2PM CET
        on Picarto and Twitch !
👕   Check out my Teespring for unique, spooky designs on tshirts, hoodies and sweaters!

Portfolio ♦ Picarto   ♦ Twitch ♦ Tumblr ♦ Instagram ♦ Facebook ♦ YouTube ♦ Artstation ♦ Twitter ♦ DeviantArt ♦ NewGrounds