Jungle Rot

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Jungle rot, that was putting it mildly. People rot, now that characterized the landscape, the smell, the churning in Hitomi Chiyoko’s stomach. Maggots made homes out of their dinner, breaking the primary rule of sanitation: don’t shit where you eat. But within the jungle, under its crisscrossing canopy and upon the decaying underbrush, sanitation was a foreign concept. Its effects were obvious both near and far, and from a distance Hitomi Chiyoko could not even distinguish between the dead and his own men. His platoon of soldiers were bent over with exhaustion and covered in so many layers of crusty mud that the dragging of their feet was a characteristic that had once belonged to dead men walking, but this was not the gallows this was the jungle…

About Connor Wilkins

Quickly, quickly... take your seat. Our storyteller is about to begin. Shhhh. Listen... His pipes are fluting emotions of myth and fable, but don't be fooled by fantasia for there are truths hidden within his unworldly tellings. We're drifting now... back in time to a world only he remembers.
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