text: “iːʌʃ dʒvɔɪəpæə! iːʌʃ dʒvɔɪəpæə! iːʌʃ dʒvɔɪəpæə!” the chanting continued. It filled the swamp. The bugs and birds seemed to join in. “The slightly changing vowel sounds made my head spin as it continued. Everything swam and spun and suddenly- &nbsp; The pressure built up and tightened. &nbsp; &nbsp; No matter how much time I spent walking through the Elephant Swamp it never felt familiar. I could walk the same path again and again and it always felt like the first time. The trees were never quite where I remembered them, or the path slowly curved to the left when I swore it should have been right, or that weird growth of moss that certainly wasn’t there last week. It was a silly thought though; I just had a bad memory is all. &nbsp; It had been a long day at work, but I wanted to unwind and the quiet hike down the old railway path was always good for relaxing the mind. Walking down from the trailhead the sound of the park slowly faded and I was left with just my thoughts and the crunching of my feet down the trail. Soon though, I arrived at the fork. I followed the path less travelled. It isn’t an official trail according to any map I’ve found, but it was obviously travelled somewhat, and getting away from people on their bikes or with their families was always welcome. &nbsp; Like usual, the path moved in ways that didn’t make sense to me. It moved down more than I thought possible. This area was usually pretty level. Again I told myself it had to be a bad memory. The path and land couldn’t change. I continued on for about 45 minutes as the sun began to set. Despite all the times the path felt weird it always met back up with the main trail in about a half an hour’s walk. I was sure of that. The sky was turning amber as the sun slowly sank and the long shadows sought to swallow me. &nbsp; I must have made a wrong turn somewhere; missed a fork earlier. I just had to turn around and go back the way I came. &nbsp; Retracing my steps, I came to an abrupt halt as, after about five minutes, the path vanished. The worn dirt just ended in thoroughly grown vegetation. Nothing had walked further as far as any indication showed. It was pristine despite it clearly being where I came from. I could even see my foot print right at the boundary. &nbsp; The sun set faster and the darkness grew. &nbsp; With a bit of panic I began to jog down the path. I just had to follow it. It would lead out. This was South Jersey; I was either going to end up in a field of blueberries or a Ryan Homes townhome development. &nbsp; The path meandered. &nbsp; It rose. &nbsp; It fell. &nbsp; It never rejoined the main trail. It never ended up in a field. It never ended up in a housing complex. &nbsp; As the sun just barely stayed over the horizon I came across a clearing and my feet planted themselves firmly in the dirt. I fell to my knees at the sudden stop and looked ahead. In the trees hung many small structures. It looked like yurts suspended as ornaments through the old growth. Each glowed with some flickering light. To my left was an obvious warning, a post hammered into the soft soil mounted with skulls. Fake or real it was obvious I shouldn’t be here. &nbsp; More accurately maybe, it shouldn’t be here. I was fine. I belonged. This did not. Standing back up a sudden cracking pain washed over the back of my head and I was down for an unexpected mandatory nap. &nbsp; &nbsp; “aʊoʊ ŋkɑ ʒθ ʊ eər.” A low gravelly vocalization. &nbsp; “aɪnuː ɒkθ ʃlʃl.” A lighter sounding voice. &nbsp; My head slowly stopped pounding and I opened one eye slowly. Two figures were squatted on the other side of the room cloaked in shadow. From what I could see through my barely-opened eye I was in one of the yurts. I felt a pressure on my wrists and ankles. I gave a small test and was definitely restrained. &nbsp; Fuck. &nbsp; They turned and looked at me. “oʊrʊː!” The gravelly voice pointed at me and they both stood up. &nbsp; Double fuck. &nbsp; Soon I’m stood up by the lighter voiced one. “You’re coming with us. You were guided here for a reason.” I was shocked that they spoke perfect English. &nbsp; “What are you talking about? Where is this? Who are you?” Questions just vomited out in my surprise. &nbsp; “None of that will matter. It is a full moon and the Swamp has brought you to us. It wishes to feed.” The gravelly voiced one spoke this time. “Do not worry. You shall be part of something bigger. Something better. iːʌʃ dʒvɔɪəpæə” &nbsp; I was lead to the edge of the yurt and my wrists fastened to a line on a block and tackle. Lowered down like some sort of furniture the people below took hold of me and walked me to a large white oak that stood tall, proud, and ancient. Ceremoniously I was bound to it, my arms stretched out in a painful reverse embrace of the trunk. The gravelly voiced man returned. He held up his arms and the people and swamp fell silent. &nbsp; “iːʌʃ dʒvɔɪəpæə.” He stated simply. &nbsp; “iːʌʃ dʒvɔɪəpæə!” They echoed. &nbsp; “iːʌʃ dʒvɔɪəpæə” they said slowly in unison. Repeating it faster and faster. It grew louder and louder. &nbsp; “iːʌʃ dʒvɔɪəpæə! iːʌʃ dʒvɔɪəpæə! iːʌʃ dʒvɔɪəpæə!” the chanting continued. It filled the swamp. The bugs and birds seemed to join in. “ The slightly changing vowel sounds made my head spin as it continued. Everything swam and spun and suddenly- &nbsp; The pressure built up and tightened. &nbsp; As my senses sight and equilibrium failed I felt my wrists be pulled further. My ankles tightened. It didn’t hurt as much as it felt like an overly-enthusiastic massage My vision cleared a bit and I saw as the trunk of the tree grew and enveloped my hands. Horror cleared my mind from the effects of the chant that now roared through the woods. They all stared at me, chanting as the tree slowly consumed me. The woody fibers grew and anchored my joints and ran up my limbs. &nbsp; In minutes I was engulfed and there was darkness.