Calvin:<em>Poison</em>. The word burns into your mind like fire as something clicks in the back of your skull in an explosive epiphany as another howling dog is pulled under the surface of the rapidly decaying field.  Images, books, stories once heard all fly through your mind as you search for the significance of that single word.  And then an old bit lore surfaces ‘<em>A poison spirit is born in grief and agony.  It can’t leave the source of it’s ever spreading death, it’s birth place, without dying.  The only way to destroy it is . . .</em>’  Your thoughts break off as a deep roar tears across the field.<br/><br/>Arianna: Something is blocking you, your normally keen spiritual insights deserting you as only a single image flashes through your mind.<em>That of a venus flytrap, it’s inviting pedals spread to draw in the little flies.<br/></em><br/><br/>The ground beneath the decaying grass slowly begins seeping the black ichor, running in rivulets through the field as the trailer the boy sits in seems to<em>shift</em>, it’s massive bulk trembling.  The boy smiles at them all as he swings his legs back inside the trailer.  For the first time you can see a thick slimy black tentacle emerging from his back as he looks over his shoulder.<br/><br/>“You should have run.” He waves happily before the appendage lifts him up and carries him into the blackness, still playing merrily with his ball.<br/><br/>A moment of silence as several more dogs disappear into the slime covering the ground before another shudder wracks the trailer, it’s metal siding cracking and twisting.  The serving window widens impossibly, almost foot long fangs emerging from the metal siding as it howls at them, the putrid stench of it’s bowels washing over them as it’s scream fills the clearing.<br/><br/>Still bending and twisting, the front and back of the trailer weaving their metal flesh to form a massive pair of arms, each of the warped appendages ending in a set of razor sharp claws that paw the earth as they drag the massive thing towards the interlopers.<br/><br/>The thing speaks, it’s malice filled maw twisting in mockery of the words as the soft tones of the boy is overlaid with a voice born of darkness, the howl of twisted metal and bubbling rot.<br/><br/>It’s eyeless face turns to Sara as it’s horrific laughter fills the clearing “<strong>yOU dOn’T wANt to Play wIth Me</strong>?” it rumbles “<strong>OH, bUT i WanT sOOO muCh tO Play with yOU!</strong>”<br/>