I'm writing this as it happens

dust blowing across the sandy beaten path that leads to the old podarson farm , a storm is coming in and I find myself here once again , the farm of death and sin , a sinister place far from anything or anyone , to be honest I wish I had my shotgun, we came here tonight on business not any type of fun, this is a rescue of a stranded animal in danger, these folks do not take kindly if you are a stranger, I'm not thank God for that , the animal in question is a sick feral cat , it Is now 12am midnight and this ranch has no power so therfore no light. as we roll slowly up to the meeting spot I can start to smell the putrid stench of somthing close that had begun to rot . death lingers here and takes more than not, the hair on my neck and arms is standing up and it's becoming freezing cold and more stench of death and mold , things have happened here people disappear but I know I must not show any kind of fear if I want to ever depart safe from here . we come to a stop in front of old weathered travel trailers that don't even look habitable. only the light of the moon and our headlights display what is directly in front of us . I notice fog getting thick as my stomach turns , I feel sick and start to anticipate -