Ick - By Henry
As my feet trudge through the icky, gurling swamp bits of horrific swampy type fungi cling to my worn out plain black sneakers. I have no idea of any place or the directions that I intend to follow or locate. I just keep on heading straight forwards. The smell is like worn sick it is one of the disgusting substances I have ever smelt in all my days. I wrinkle my nose at the disgusting pong but it doesn't help. I have no idea where I am or how in lords name I got to this land of supposed ick.