That evening, the setting sun filtered down through the tree canopy like golden mist, glowing against Evan’s skin as he trekked through the forest, exploring a trail that seemed rather serene, almost untouched by any other human interaction.

He moved with confidence along the unmarked trail, pushing aside low-hanging branches and stepping over exposed roots. His boots were caked in the soft earth, his pack light on his back. It was solitude he wanted, and he sure did find it. There couldn’t have been another person nearby, after multiple days hiking through the woods and making great distance, Evan was sure that he had to have been at least a good few hundred miles away from anyone.

As the sun began to set over the horizon, Evan veered off the path to follow the faint sound of running water. He hoped to find a stream, fill up his canteen and maybe rest for a bit. Instead, he found a clearing, silent and still. No birds, no wind, no rustle of wildlife. Just an open patch of ground, dark and glistening in the sunlight.

The surface looked wet but solid, like oil-covered stone. Curious, Evan took a step closer. The ground seemed to ripple subtly, almost imperceptibly, as if it were breathing. He took another step forward…

And then he was in.

At first, it was just one foot. It sank with a sickening shlorp, the tar warm and thick around his ankle. He yanked back, but the substance clung to him like glue. He tried to step away, but that only plunged his other leg in deeper.

“Shit,” he muttered, panic blooming fast, crawling up his chest and settling in his throat, he could feel his heart pounding deep in his chest as adrenaline coursed through his veins.

The tar was like a living being. It sucked at him with slow, greedy intent. With each movement, he heard it, glutch, glorp, schluck! Wet, low sounds, like thick molasses slapping against rubber. He tried to throw himself backward, but his body tilted instead, driving him deeper into the pit.

Now up to his thighs, the tar began to close around him like a warm embrace. It gurgled and burbled softly, like it was whispering to itself. Blorp… schlop… shlurrrk… bubbles erupted and popped, splattering Evan with spurts of warm, sticky tar.

His hands clawed at the pit, but there was nowhere to gain stability, just more tar, slurping his coated arms beneath the surface. Each pull of his arms made that same horrific sound: shlork, plop, gloop, as though the tar were laughing at his feeble attempts to escape. The sludge stretched and pulled every time he lifted an arm, greedily pulling it back down into the black abyss.

“Help!” he yelled, voice ragged. But there was no one. He panted and huffed as he struggled to free himself, churning the tar around his mired body as he sank deeper and deeper into the sludge, still unable to feel the bottom.

The tar reached his chest. His breath came in short, terrified gasps. It was hot now, seeping under his clothes, and causing him to feel flushed. Sweat dripped from his brow he confined to struggle in an intense fight to pull himself out before it was too late. As Evan sank deeper, the tar spilled into his ears and pressed against his lips. He tried to lean his head back, to keep his mouth clear. But even that motion made the pit slurp greedily at his neck and head, gluurp, schlaarp, blup.

The more he struggled, the more the tar responded, as though delighted. It lapped at his face now. A bubble popped near his cheek with a wet blip. His arms, heavy and sluggish, were no longer able to break the surface of the sticky tar pit.

“Please,” he begged, but the tar didn’t listen.

Only his face remained above the surface. Eyes wide, mouth barely open, coated in the glistening sheen of blackness. A final sound echoed softly from beneath him, a long, drawn-out bloooorrrrp! as if the pit was swallowing the last bite of a meal.

Then Evan was gone. Pulled beneath the surface of the tar as it spilled over his face and filled his mouth. Bubbles churned and popped on the surface from where he had disappeared, before slowly fading out.