📖 Enjoy Storytell Time Creation By Sparkle ✍️

Subtitle - Rory’s Warning Gestures To Me

Continuation on in a jungle biosphere habitation were the muddy quicksand exploration was more than an occasionally adventure beckons whenever Rory takes a warning gestures to me as I had then been approaching slow to the one messiest soil sediments, while wearing his oversized mascot shoes; the pulsation from the collapsing bellow rings of a predatory mud has already expanded quite significantly begun to claiming his waistline making all belch mode of noises from trapped air pockets raising to the surface as bubbles, leaving no doubt of available choices to decides energy to escape route out because his one brightest colourful costume was now confessing in a sharply dark brown substances clinging to him heaviest, all very wet ‘n’ matted in a net that used his own movements motion rhythms likely twisted workable technique as weaknesses used against his assignments too avoidances being sucked more towards head deep… but in all seriousness honest tale of quicksand, the story has no relation to recovery.

Therefore, sweating socked feet trapped inside the quicksand all over soiled in the saturated semiconductor liquid shows how a zir scents of strongest aromatic odours shall hangs heavier buried in the muggy atmosphere of humidifier’s jungle air, though Rory still manages to struggles with maintaining his own balance even at a relaxed state waist half deeper; whence he looked at me, his non verbal gaze of voices express with hand sway “come here Owen, I think the desire for you too join me was fine”, evenly though his pleading mascot Tiger eyes had more than doubled all thousand words that beckons me closer in this storytell, signalling a newer change has arrived away from the mascot above his waist in this substance, wanting me to join him.

Despite my own smaller stature ‘n’ lighter build compared too the mascot costume performer for sports, meant I felt a stranger mix between explorations curiosity about getting thee experiences of sinking stuck in the muddy sediments over concern about if Rory could indeed rescued me all eventually out before times too late; then as I stepped onto the quicksand’s surface without obviously his oversized mascot shoes I’ve removed due to not wanting too loose them, by like the mascot I wanted too feel the one viscous substance resist my own moments… as thee story goes with me now along sinking steadfast because I’m in his presence net ring directly into the predatory mouth I descend quicker acceleration.

For me this adventure wasn’t about the organic ‘n’ inorganic stuff immediately began to interact with my socked feet ‘n’ clothes, all causing me to be vacuumed sucked downwards sinkages paced more rapidly than usual Rory; because within seconds, blimey a little few seconds into the mud was already at my ankles where the predator would form a bellowing ring of collapsing by indeed drifting separation between thee properties away trying to fill my ecological disturbed space in threatening to swallow me up, only to discover that my mascot friend was approaching closely to his chest as the sinking did in all honesty all accelerating, this would eventually put pressure upon the previously entrapped performer individual to rescue me.

Once my own socked feet plain white socks dipped the plungers into the adhesive mixture, I could instantly feels the tugging of all gravitational wave suction pull at my limbs as one did find it hard to movement let alone wading through the quicksand sediments; simplicity means I was quickest enough too be entrapped as the strange sensation made it surely off, but all intrigued, due to zir curiosity that this slowly moving process beckons a riskiest shift in hazardously longer or shortly time the mud thrashed violently around Rory with pure determination raging aggression, like this predatory organisms aliveness shall be surprising us both now in much the same violence.

Thee wholeheartedly erratically nature’s impact on behavioural of all developmental stages of the muddy waves produced from the quicksand turns more aggressive than ever-so, rippling outwards in short interval bursts of violent surges that causes the mud too slosh everywhere ‘n’ force heave with each successive rhythmic; but this would then aim this encasement thrash pushing towards Rory more ‘n’ lesser so at me because my mascot friend was at the deepest levels already in the substance depths, which only I saw him struggle a little fiercely while trying to continue our own journey… but here in this case his costume was making it difficult to maintain one’s own sinks as I’m surely not so stopping sinking, only our both attempts wasn’t to regain our footing.

Thanks to the muddy quicksand predator keeping one step close ahead of our nearest target, that was ideally waving a white flag of submission as the mud always tightens up the grasping, shall form a tweaked conformity as the depression rings around us all intended to increase the vacuum suction all the time; though this only means one thing in particular, constant motion into the thick layers of sticky clay or mud that cocoons like a warm blanket zir creating a dense but strong rubbery shell that further hampered amour movements especially whence quicksand is a semi-solid form that doesn’t require water flow nor push back or expanded to allow a single relief to move easily.

Meanwhile, as I mentioned earlier that I was indeed sinking into a quicksand sedimentary sea, paced through accelerating leave my socked feet becoming so absorbed heavy as submerged by the mud; the organic material embedded within the substance a fewer areas of decomposition leaves, tiny twigs or liana ‘n’ rocky debris added to the chaos around me ‘n’ aptly named Rory that caused the mud to moveables unpredictably fast in a blind of an eye, changing in a instant manner catching us off guard… once again surprises arisen as we both couldn’t stop the predator nor reverse the descent downward into the danger red zone.

For me, however, the only terrifying aspect of sinking into muddy quicksand was induced suffocation by all submersions aliveness, claimed by the vacuums suction obviousness being in a growing chamber that beckons to be stronger than our slighter chance of struggling or shuffling again the rising tidal torrents as all natural instincts; but observing Rory failing to notice a battlement lost in a sudden explosions too free himself, thee whole suction system was grabbing the mascot from all angles of directions from which compression pressed against him the wrongful ways only seen in jungle muddy quicksand qualities almost above chest deepest ‘n’ knowingly no longer available tactics whiles our pat-a-cake game was slowing down sporadically fast.

Quicksand was on overdrive mode, but the driving density of the substance itself was sticky clay-mud could form all a barrier that squeezes Rory out by constricting him like a Python trapping him in the coils all further down, while I follows the same fate; but our distraction was a bit terrible error as this started again when’s we know that at some point I would need rescuing firstly, but for how long can thee mascot stay at chest deepest ‘n’ before actionable in the story begins… but when I say him pat the mud in a playful manner, vain force was all relentless when the whole tale cutting the cord saw the suction in succession victory because whether costume along with football socked feet or myself in standard all clothes were embedded into the predators game.

But for Rory this became more than frantic motion to make surely we’re not going to be buried alive…. the question is, will escapee succumb to submersion?, despite my own small statue in height, a situation for me was dire because I wasn’t just lighter, but i was in the mascots sinkage network; due to the fact the vacuum had been closing in on my from the beginning when I took the plunge into the quicksand, feeling the pressure like a vice where the one earth prevented me from lifting my socked feet direct out meeting with resistance or a predatory reinforcements restraining my alls feet ‘n’ legs so steady, claim me inch by inch ‘n’ by level depths.

For you as the audience, quicksand in this jungle biosphere has only one trend ‘n’ that’s a downwards momentum that becomes more pronounced in desperation whence struggling at this point for Rory too keep his head above the surface, leaving his owner costume ‘n’ thick socks making a hugely mistake to shift as thee mascot was approaching too shoulder halfway down; but for you witnessing the events taking shape, the muds density wasn’t just a problem but a rubbery shell was the substance ‘n’ the vacuum suction as the gravitational field, pressing or compressing from all sides making escapee impossible.

Futile experiments was thee word too states whence me ‘n’ Rory was entrapped near shoulders, while I’m slightly above my waist, being close to him meant I was at arm lengthwise distance away when he needed to reach out too me because feeling the stickier mud grips on his Tiger mittens hands showed that a newest loss could arises if this mascot actually place his front important limbs implanted inside the conformed mixture ready too reactivates the whole restraints furthermore; though my heartbeat was pounding especially whence the mud was trying to embed his mittens as a slow descend into the viscously blender reveals I relied on upon him to rescue me from the quicksand.

Additionally, if Rory’s own Tiger mittens were to sink fullers inside the thick muddy quicksand, he wouldn’t be able to gain leverage to help me or himself before I was the first to submerged by sink under completely because watching by seeing him tryouts to apt make a sitting position pull out using his arms to plunges into the viscous muddy depths… but this was a grave mistake; adherents were disturbing the surface ‘n’ instead of providing a stable grasp or support the mascot here was ideally becoming more embed’s especially during the rapid intrusions of the materials on his own mittens the makes thee mud more likes a mesh, leaving the mud to forms a perfect net suited to the cohesive structure that would make any differences in rescuing or balancing less effective.

As the particles or molecules interlock together a quicksand is all behaving more aggressive, thrashing while surging at Rory likely means a faster rate beast was creating a mud screen to keep our own distractions to gain our minds attention too what surrounding us; an interesting entire situation reels how a chaotically moving cycle that instantly becomes dangerous upon arrival when touch was established onto the surface; thee greatest threat to entering quicksand was the vacuum suction, it was beating aliveness in a very actively engaged individual who had two humans as prey all sealed ready to bury by leaving no attack wounds, only a cocoon of sticky mud.

Only through external contact where rescue would be necessary, wait there’s, hold up audience, in this storytell there was no need for interventions whatsoever because the impossible is the most riskiest assignment ever in life’s best pursuit in which hazardous situations are obviously presented to gamble what happen when exploration takes the wrongful direction; meanwhile, for me thee suction meant I couldn’t simply puller myself out or take a sitting position to make sure I could shuffle out of the stickiness net like mesh nor perform a single task of standing up technique without causing additional pressure on the predatory opponent.

Every failed attempt showcases that for me to free my limbs from the enemy mud, well to mention worth my socked feet ‘n’ my legs from the ever growing pain the gripping shall be upon tighter than each round, when I realise that I was entire dependent on Rory’s strength to make the bravest one leap too my side before I’m too deepest in the quicksand; so I need him as a safety anchor lines remaining afloat, due too the quicksand mud being thickening ‘n’ viscous that didn’t flow a semi-solid enough wasn’t a definitively sufficient bluff true liquid meant I couldn’t float liked water but in my own mind only sink as a lighter than heavy object… but more was to come ‘n’ make this predicament worse.

A muddy quicksand pit was found as a deadliest enemy that was more powerful than a Green Anaconda or Burmese Python, soon I risked being entombed in cohesion cocoon of sticky mud if one named Rory couldn’t free himself just centimetres away from his shoulders to protect me from being consumed whole by the very environment we’re both come too explore innocently; being head deepest or near head deep means leverage was futile as the reel would be impossible to defender against the attack of vacuuming suctions, but this would have led to him as a mascot struggle too lift himself with a heaviest possible costume ‘n’ by using a sturdy rope meant not enough strength could be implied… in this part of the stroytell had reached its peak.

As my arms were flailing as my head was about to be smoothed down into the swirling muddy hell pit known as a suffocation void of sheer nothingness, as a few tugs by Rory trying to pull himself upwards from the muddy mesh like net like a giant tug-o-war with a boggy substance clinging too him forever tights in a hugging of compression’s embrace, he grabbed my wrists holding me ‘n’ by leaning forwards hands under the quicksand where the whole of interactions interlocking with his mittens hand create a sensation that adheres like a plunger; a mighty desperation effort saw this moment to break free from the quicksand qualities where a non verbal gesture from him states “let’s get out of this messier than messiest pit if mixture Owen, we’ve overstayed our welcome”, a enemy with so much energy has a different meaning for us.

Quicksand was a horrible symbol of eternal rage where a oneself predator won’t be letting us go that easy because, entering mud was the easiest part, getting out was the hardest part to survive; I positioned myself as the best I could to remain still as possible in assuming the thick muddy quicksand doesn’t caves in on Rory at this one crucially important manoeuvre that was rightly thee only chances too get all exertion in power too save me first ‘n’ mascot followed second, lighter person out ‘n’ heavier person last… but one thing was missing but really certain, exhaustion was setting motion which was actively necessary whence our coordinations was compromised as this wasn’t going to plan.

A straightforward approach was always going too have setbacks, where the quicksand was actually laughing at us in our bid to win a match against the champion fighter, that wasn’t never going to happen; all reminder saw that the muds behaviour in dangerous circumstances wherever organic or inorganic, it’s namesake truly was a living breathtaking entity that traps anything ‘n’ everything without any reason of noises soo much silent laughter warnings either heard, but a embrace of bluff tactics that relishes a delay to recover before prey can perform actions to avoid asphyxiation.

As thee epilogue for part 3 “Rory’s Warning Gestures To Me” apt shows in this vividly reminiscent storytell that the mud quicksand shouldn’t never be underestimated because me ‘n’ mascot are a still in a very different world where the deepest part of sinking in this particular substance that combines a dangerousness dance with nature’s hidden truth of how a predatory organism could be camouflaged out of sightseers in this tropical paradise biosphere too an evolutionary perfection; though this’ll emphasis the critical dependence I’ve on Rory as the mascot in a terrifyingly tale of a very specific entrapment willingly ready to gulp constantly before a fuller disappearance is least desired if not carefulness.

Storytelling has more to offer in the next fourth part “Games Played In The Quicksand”, so stay tuned readers.