It was drizzling out, a somewhat cool evening, the sun just beginning to set. The man had a few hours before it would truly be dark, so he kept forwards. He kneeled down on the soft ground, the sound of frogs all around him. He studied the area, back and forth, looking for any movement, or to spot any frog sitting still on the ground. A favourite pastime of his, he wanted to see if he could get a frog to stay in his hand again, before jumping off back into the ferns. Nothing in the immediate area.

He stood up again and continued forward, stepping around the boggy spots, trying to keep his footing on the stumps and hillocks, or branches. His feet were already wet, but he had to try.

The hillocks became sparser, and a softer area of the bog was to his right. The sound of frogs was ever present, all around him. He spotted the occasional jumping ten, fifteen feet from him, but the little creatures were either hiding when close to him, or hopping away before he got near. He decided to stay still for a little while, see if they would surface close to him.

He found a tree to sit against, one foot partially in the water, and looked at the scenery before him. Trees all around, the more open, boggy spot right in front, three trees spread out in the middle of it. And he sat. The frogs continued on, and he waited. 

Mud slapped over his shoulder, a big, wet slab, or a log of mud. Immediate pain shot into his arm, and he felt moving inside. He wrenched forward and yanked his shoulder away, blood pouring down his arm. Several… earthworms? were torn in half, partially embedded in his skin. He screamed and turned around.

Mud slapped over his face, and he fell backwards, landing in the water, arms down to catch himself. A heaping mound of mud was in front of him, a protrusion from either side, one of them pointed forwards towards him, the other, the end bloody and with earthworms emerging from it. That arm swung forwards, slapping onto his torso, the other reaching forwards towards his face again while the mound moved forwards. His vision went dark, and pain erupted from his belly and face. He tried to scream, and felt worms crawling into his mouth and through his cheeks, his eye. He attempted to pull backwards, but could only manage a foot before more weight was added to his body. His belly screamed with pain, his chest felt alive with squirming. His face was filled with writhing, and he couldn’t close his mouth. He knew his eyes were go

Small portions of his side and arm were visible, the rest of the body covered with her mud. She pushed and pushed with her worms, filling his body in every way, feeding, feeding. His legs beneath the surface, she slid forward, and worms pushed from her base, piercing his legs and feet, and she fed from all parts. She slurped overtop of him, enveloping him entirely, and a shallow mound of writhing mud remained above the surface of the water. The frogs had gone silent when he began screaming, and slowly began to croak again. A slight splashing, quickly becoming less and less, until the mound grew to a wider heap several feet tall, and moved off from the bog into the woodlands.

The Hag 5, by KatieLynne