Deep Within the Amazon by B.L. Sherrington
With no job offers ready for her and no savings left to live off, Molly was back at 28 Chase Road. Life in Manchester was a dream come true. Her parents were thrilled to see her, though for different reasons. Her father was glad for the company, ready to compare his life working in London to her student years, while her mother was delighted that her only daughter had returned to Epsom, under the assumption that Molly was finished with her adventurer phase, and would retire to write for the local paper.
The very idea of Epsom being the be-all and end-all of Molly’s existence brought her out in hives. Arriving at the railway and standing leaning against the wall of Co-Op, the Rojt sisters walked by Molly, power-walking through the city centre. Returning to her home-town awakened Molly with nostalgia, yet terrified her. This could be more than flying visit.
This can’t be all there is for me, Molly thought. Desperate to be far away from Surrey, she scoured the internet looking for anything. Within two weeks, Molly was in Rondônia, ready to start her new job as an au pair.
Molly was living with two other teachers: Louisa from Cornwall and Rose from Oxford. Louisa was a fellow newbie teacher but budding globe trotter, while Rose was the most experienced. It wasn’t long before Molly was sharing her ideas of travelling and her interest in exploring the Amazon Rainforest with Rose and Louisa. Louisa was intrigued and excited to join the trek through the rainforest, while Rose was cautious.
“Beware,” Rose warned.
“The rainforest is stunning. Go and enjoy the views. It really is charming,” Louisa added. “But whatever you do, don’t go into the centre of the rainforest.”
“Why?”
“Bad things happen there,” Rose revealed.
“Bad things?” Molly repeated. “Like what?”
“People get hurt,” Rose whispered.
“Is the trail unsafe?”
“People disappear. The ones that don’t, they’re, they’re scarred,” Rose added, as she looked to the ground.
“We had a flatmate last year who went to the rainforest and explored the centre,” Louisa said.
“What happened to her?”
“Fleur came back, but she was covered in these oozing scars up and down her arms. Bruises all over her face. She was left with a permanently stunned expression,” Louisa explained.
“She couldn’t have been there for no more than six hours, and it was like she’d spent a century in hell,” Rose added.
As the sun creeped into her bedroom at the crack of dawn, Molly prepared for the rainforest. Without a moment’s hesitation she looked at her reflection and tied her long brown curls in a ponytail. She knew for better or worse, her future lay in the Amazon rainforest.
She was almost numb on her bus journey, barely noticing the elderly bus driver’s rebellious driving which left dents in the roof of the bus. Jumping out of her seat every time the driver hit a speed bump, Molly’s head was covered in bruises before she’d even got off the bus. The squeakiness of the ragged bus’s outer case felt louder next to her stillness of the morning. Even for the early morning, it was quiet. So silent, that the newlyweds behind Molly decided to consummate their marriage. Somewhere between the driver leaving a bloody mess on the roof, and the passionate back-seat couple legally declaring themselves as man and wife, the bus came to a halt.
“We’re here,” the driver yelled. “Off my bus.”
The driver’s raised voice, and his Heimlich-like parking, brought Molly back to reality. While the couple behind her put their clothes on, and Molly realised they were in fact half naked on a sticky, filthy bus, she walked off and stared at the rainforest.
It couldn’t be as extreme as Louisa and Rose were suggesting, Molly verbalised to herself as she walked from the bus stop to the rainforest. It must be that they just didn’t have the bottle to explore the rainforest, so they were trying to scare her. If it was as torturous as they implied, the rainforest would be forbidden, surely.
As the tranquil sunrays of a Brazilian early morning emerged, Molly entered the rainforest. At first entry it was picturesque. The trees were easily 20 feet high shielding the rain, preventing flooding of the habitats of the many animals. She hiked for three hours through the squishy mud in complete silence. The closer Molly grew to the centre of the rainforest, the slower her stride became. Still as silent as a mime, Molly found a human footstep. Behind an aged tree draped in brown leaves, an abandoned bag laid in the mud. Covered in faeces, the bag held a name tag reading ‘Property of Leah Robertson’. Molly looked around but there was no sight of Leah. Three trees later, an abandoned American passport sat in a mossy puddle. Molly picked it up, shaking the dirty water off to find the name ‘Fleur Posey’.
When Molly stepped back towards the entrance, she snapped the branch on a severed tree with her heavy boots. The sloths were the first animal she caught the eye off. Blending in with the trees, their damp fur was dripping onto Molly’s feet. It wasn’t long before she was surrounded by the Brazilian wandering spider. Small in size, they climbed her like a tree, their legs expanding as they reached her navel. Molly was flustered with surprise, desperately shaking her legs as they dropped off her.
With a moment’s freedom, a family of Amazonian giant centipedes pounced on her, followed by three dozen Bullet ants. Within minutes, they multiplied. Molly’s skin turned a violent shade of red as the bullet ants dug their teeth in. The sting was unbearable as more and more centipedes populated her body.
The sound of a scream startled the bugs, causing them to scurry away from Molly. Molly scanned her surroundings, but no one, and nothing, was there. Her breath became heavier as she climbed the aged tree, which was sprouting with aquatic leaves. The branches were varied lengths with bumps, and were shaped like decapitated hands. With each branch she climbed, Molly called out for the scream. When she reached five feet high on the tree, she stopped looking around the rainforest. She heard no reply. She screamed again. Nothing. Molly began breathing heavily and as she prepared her lungs to scream, the common vampire bat jumped on her shoulders, while two harpy eagles began flapping their wings directly in front of her. She fell of the tree and thumped her head on the muddy ground.
Molly was surrounded by Brazilian wondering spiders. There must have been hundreds circling around her ankles. The two eagles were now at her feet dragging her down the path while ten vampire bats lifted her from her sides and the spiders followed behind.
The animals dumped her in a sand pit surrounded by four jaguars circling her, as if she was fresh meat, and they were marking their territory. Her heart was beating as loud as a car’s horn and her sight was daringly blurred. Two of the jaguars grabbed her by her hands, gnawing on her wrists, and dragged her 10 metres before tossing her into a cage. Her screams of pain meant nothing to them. The stench of death was everywhere. The stench was so overwhelming, Molly could feel the urge to regurgitate between blurriness. The bars had puss oozing from them. In the far-right corner of the cage, a harassed woman sat, rocking back and forth. As Molly moved closer to her, the jaguars licked their lips.
“Hello?” Molly asked the caged woman cautiously. The woman looked up, breathing heavily, and blood dripped down her blonde hair. The woman looked at Molly as if she had seen a ghost.
“What’s your name?”
“Leah. My name is Leah,” she replied, vacantly looking out into the distance.
“I’m Molly. What is going on?”
“We’re never leaving the rainforest,” Leah replied, attempting to hide her worn hands.
“Do they want to kill us?”
“That would be a kindness,” Leah sighed, revealing her hands to Molly. Her fingernails had been ripped off, leaving swollen stubs with dried blood.
“They rip off limbs. Half of them get used for the cages. The rest, the jaguars eat,” Leah answered.
“What happens to the other people?”
Leah smiled at Molly. She stroked her hair and began to cry.
“Did you see shape of the trees here?” Leah implored, blubbering.
“They’re all bumpy and the branches are all different lengths and widths”
“Like people,” Leah commented, nodding her head.
The blood came rushing to Molly’s brain. Before Leah could explain, a jaguar came and dragged her out of the cage. Leah was dumped on a rotting wooden float above a swamp. A green anaconda crawled out from underneath the water and held her tightly around her neck, ankles, and wrists. Leah couldn’t talk or move. Restrained and restricted, five jaguars jumped on top of her and ripped off her arms while five more chomped at the legs.
Molly could feel the speed her heart was beating, as if it was about to jump out of her chest. Before Molly could react to Leah’s death, five jaguars entered the cage. Two grabbed her ankles, two more grabbed her wrists, and the last one dragged her with her hair in its mouth. Molly was tossed into the swamp. A bull shark swam towards her. Large and imposing in size, it was the picture of Molly’s nightmares. Before the shark could reach her, a family of electric eels fried her. Floating to the top, Molly’s body gradually moved towards the edge of the swamp. She was grabbed by five harpy eagles that swung up to a tree. The tree was cut open, as if it was a door. A jaguar took a running jump and soon Molly was squashed within the tree with her legs hanging out.
As she stood there, barely conscious, Molly moved her head. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Leah’s head on the tree, in place of a branch.
Written by B. L. Sherrington
B. L. Sherrington is a London-based writer studying a master’s degree in Creative Writing. Sherrington is currently penning debut novel, Basilar, editing a screenplay, The Legend of Kuse House and is preparing to publish a collection of fantasy short stories, Orphic. When B.L isn’t writing screenplays, novels, short stories or poetry, Sherrington can be found living in the fictional worlds of the fantasy greats, attending theatre shows, watching cinematic magic, and planning trips around the world.
www.blsherrington.weebly.com