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An Entity of Type : owl:Thing, within Data Space : 134.155.108.49:8890 associated with source dataset(s)

The soft wilderness breeze whisped through the boy's hair as he walked on top of what seemed to be the constant woods that surrounded the wilderness. His parents had said he was old enough to leave the house, but he could only stick to the trails. His father had shown him all the trails and where they led to, readying him for his adventures. But as the boy explored, he had forgotten what his dad had told him, to be on the trails. And as he moved his small feet off the trail, he didn't know that only bad would come of it. Buzzing.

AttributesValues
rdfs:label
  • Swarms
rdfs:comment
  • The soft wilderness breeze whisped through the boy's hair as he walked on top of what seemed to be the constant woods that surrounded the wilderness. His parents had said he was old enough to leave the house, but he could only stick to the trails. His father had shown him all the trails and where they led to, readying him for his adventures. But as the boy explored, he had forgotten what his dad had told him, to be on the trails. And as he moved his small feet off the trail, he didn't know that only bad would come of it. Buzzing.
dcterms:subject
abstract
  • The soft wilderness breeze whisped through the boy's hair as he walked on top of what seemed to be the constant woods that surrounded the wilderness. His parents had said he was old enough to leave the house, but he could only stick to the trails. His father had shown him all the trails and where they led to, readying him for his adventures. But as the boy explored, he had forgotten what his dad had told him, to be on the trails. And as he moved his small feet off the trail, he didn't know that only bad would come of it. The soft breeze swooshed leaves around, forming a small tornado, and stopped and the leaves gently landing on the ground. The boy stared in astonishment at the tall pines, the glory of the rolling landscape. The soft sound of the river swishing was strangely drowned out by a low buzz. It was a buzz, he recognized it, the sound of a mosquito or fly. He didn't worry, he had bug spray. He continued his stroll, when he heard it again. Louder. Closer. He turned his head in all the directions, but could see nothing. It kept getting louder, until he heard it right behind his head. He turned around, and time slowed down as he stared at an ugly bug flying towards him. It was huge, he realized. It had the body and stinger of a bee, except three times the size of a bee. It had two yellow, blank eyes with dark red and white stripes racing down its hairy head and thorax, and its bare body like lightning bolts. It had two fangs on the side of its mouth like shoulder blades, except they were moving back and forth. Its mouth itself resembled that of a weta's. He screamed in panic and slapped it. It made a louder sound, like a locust in distress. Suddenly, hands grabbed swooped him up and took off. It was his father, the boy realized. His father worked his way back to his house, the three story structure glooming. His mother rushed out, and waited at the door way. Her eyes widened in pure fear as she saw the swarm of the insects chasing them. The father tripped, dropping the boy, who rolled away from his arms. The insects came in swarms at the father's body. His mother raced to get him, but the boy watched in shock and fear at what he saw. His father had stood up, but the insects covered his entire body. He screamed loudly, his mouth gaping open, and tons of the insects crawled inside his mouth, and some poked at his eyeballs and crawled inside the eye sockets after they'd popped out. The mother, screaming picked up the boy and ran to the house. But more insects arrived in swarms, and as she dropped him in the doorway, they attacked her. The boy watched her scream, her body shaking in tremendous jolts. The boy couldn't take it anymore. As he watched her body stop shaking, he shut the door, screaming crying as he climbed up the stairs as fast as he could. He ran into his room, and crawled under his desk. Whimpering, he snagged a picture of his parents. He sat under the table and cried, his tears splashing against the picture of the three together. He cried, and after the constant buzzing of the bugs died away, he barreled through his front door. His parents lay on the ground next to each other, his mom must've rolling down the hill after she had been attacked, as the blood trail lead to her body. He knelt, and wept at their corpses. Their skin are rotten and was green, their faces twisted, as if the skin had been inflated and had slowly deflated. Their eye sockets were leeming an evil black, and their teeth were gone and their mouths gaping open in endless screams. As he was done weeping, his eyes red from the tears, he heard a soft, whining sound. Buzzing.
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