FOUR MONTHS HAVE PASSED SINCE THE SUDDEN appearance of fantasy dungeons, with monsters and loot inside, some who actually believe all that bullshit believe the dungeons are a sign that the earth is on it's last leg while others believe that they are passageways connecting our world to another world.
Turning on CNN, for the major weather radar so I can get a good idea of how much time I have left to get my harvests in before the first frost. [Yes, it's been four months now since the Statue of Liberty was swallowed up by the Dungeon…two teams of Navy Seals and 5 teams of researchers have gone into the dungeon and only three men have returned, the Federal Government is staying tight lipped about what those brave men and women faced inside, our hearts and prayers go out those who were lost and their families. Now onto the weather.]
"People are taking this shit way too far…buncha liberals poisoning our minds to keep our attention away from the sharp economic decline, and collapse of our country." I mutter while fixing myself a peanut butter and fluff sandwich, which is about the only thing I can afford to eat right now besides Top Ramen.
'Can't wait for my butcher animals to be ready to be butchered, I'm dying for some red meats, poultry, and pork.'
[For you Farmer's in upstate New York we have a massive cold front sweeping down from the north over the course of the next three days.] I hear on the news and see the radar.
"Fuck me!" I grunt defeatedly, "That's not enough time, I'm going to lose 90% of the grain harvest this year, and I can't afford to buy feed…this will be the end of the farm being in my family…500 years of family history gone…just because I'm a lousy fucking farmer." I sigh as I flop down into my beat up old recliner that belonged to my oldman when the farmhand house belonged to him.
'Might as well go do what I can even if it is an act of futility.' I sigh internally as I tap the power button
on the TV remote walkover to the door and proceed to enter the mudroom and slide my feet into my worn out muckboots.
Climbing up into my old international hydrostatic tractor hooked to the feed wagon, I start driving down the driveway performing a rolling stop finding no traffic I pull out into the road, and start my quarter mile track up to the main barn driving by my family's lumber mill, chugging along five miles an hour, on my international harvester! starts playing on the radio drawing a soft chuckle out of me.
Reaching the barn…or what's left of it as a rocky out cropping has pierced through the older end of the barn where the Hayloft used to be.
"...What in the fucking hell!" I blurt out as I pull off the road into the third and lower driveway of the farm that leads to the shop and pole barn…and stare at the sight of over half my barn that was swallowed up by a…dungeon…just like the statue of Liberty.
Hearing the panicked cries of my dairy cows I stop my gawking and move to my truck and pull out my Remington 870 12 gauge pump action shotgun, my ammo belt, slinging both over my shoulder, stopping for half a moment before climbing into the cab, opening the center console that is between the driver and passenger seats, grabbing out my tactical multifunction titanium flashlight out of the center console.
"Shane, out of all the stupid impulsive shit you've ever done, this…this is the stupidest." I mutter as I open the door to the milkhouse flashlight in hand revealing a dark endless chasm…where the milk house used to meet the barn, I didn't give myself time to talk myself out of going inside as the sounds of my cows in a panicked frenzy are growing dimmer and dimmer.
'What, would make one of these fuckin nerd dungeons pop up here?' I wonder as I reach the bitten off end of the milk house and turn on my flashlight illuminating around 150 feet into a 3 meter high and 6 meter wide tunnel that has rough but smoothened walls and floors.
"Welp, nothing ventured, nothing gained…" I mutter as I take a few steps into the dungeon and feel all of the hairs on my body stand on end while goosebumps rise up on the skin of my arms, "Fuck this…I'm not going to die in here!" I express in a whisper and turn on my heel to go back the way I came only to find that the entrance…my exit is gone…completely sealed up by a solid rock wall.
'Fuck me…!' I cry out in my head, and turn back around with my flashlight in hand and my shotgun on my shoulder.
'Hanging around the entrance of the dungeon doesn't make much sense does it not when it can change it's terrain without a sound or any movement or anything, I remember reading in those fantasy novels and junk that these things can be really unstable inside for the first hour or even days after they pop up, maybe it's the same in real life to.
And I better not forget that these things don't obey the laws of physics, logic, and causation, which is evident by the entrance sealing up, so it's safe to say that these dungeons can constantly rebuild, regenerate, and change shape...
"Yup, I am so fucked!" I say into the still mostly dark cave.
The strong glow of my flashlight is still my only source of light, the sounds of animals in pain and panic has ceased…and I find that talking to myself is a great anxiety/stress reliever, it is a little surprising at how much just hearing my own voice is a comfort to me as I'm not a big talker.
"Now, How the hell am I supposed to get out of here, don't tell me I have to defeat a boss monster or some bullshit?!" I mutter as I lose my composure, and start kicking the hard ground beneath my feet.
"Just gotta keep moving until I find another exit...I guess." I mutter as I unconsciously reach up and use my forearm to wipe away some sweat from my brow, as I proceed further along the path before, guided by the light from my flashlight.