Moving forward in the muck

The muck stuck to their shoes, keeping them from moving. Was this how wet cement felt? They had always wondered. Instead, the swamp wanted to eat them alive. Great.

Somehow they managed to fight the suction and take another step forward. The grime had penetrated everything. The mud had traveled up their pant legs, caked from their ankles to their knees. Further up, their trousers had begun to dry off, becoming a crusty disgusting layer that grated against their skin.

What bothered them most though, was the dirt under their nails. All they wanted to do was stop and try to pry the grains out from underneath, with the nails on their other hand, just as filthy. It was pointless.

Trying not to think about it, they trudged forward as the dirt covered more and more of them. First wet, then dry, until wet again.

At least cement would have killed them by now.

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