James groaned as he rummaged through his backpack, fingers brushing against crumpled wrappers and loose change before finally closing around his earplugs. He shoved them into his ears, but the muffled noise of his camping neighbors still seeped through.
"Damn them."
He cursed under his breath, glaring in the direction of the newly arrived family a few campsites over. They had rolled in just as the sun began to dip below the trees, their laughter and chatter shattering the peaceful solitude he had been savoring. This was his last free day before returning to the soul-sucking grind of his job—a convenience store salesman, stuck behind a counter for endless hours, dealing with mind-numbing boredom and the occasional Karen who thought expired coupons were a personal affront.
And now, thanks to these people, even his escape into nature was ruined.
The problem? A missing pet turtle.
Apparently, the kids had let the thing out to "play" and then promptly forgotten about it. Now, the parents were sweeping the area with a megaphone, calling out for the lost reptile like it was a dog that might come bounding back at the sound of its name.
"Shelly! Shelly, come back!"
They had searched for hours, flashlights cutting through the growing darkness, until finally giving up when the forest became too dense and the night too deep. Relief washed over James as silence finally settled over the campsite. He exhaled, sinking back into his folding chair, and closed his eyes. Just a quick nap before retreating to his tent.
But exhaustion pulled him under harder than he expected.
His next sensation was *pain*—a sharp, burning agony at his neck. His eyes flew open, and his breath hitched. A heavy weight pressed down on his chest, and for a disoriented second, he thought a rock had somehow landed on him. But rocks didn't *move*.
His hands flew to his neck, fingers coming away slick with blood. Panic surged as he realized something was *latched onto him*, its grip unrelenting. He tried to pry it off, but the movement only sent fresh waves of white-hot pain shooting through him.
Blinking through the haze, he finally saw it—the dark, domed shape wasn't a rock at all.
It was a turtle shell.
And the creature attached to it had its jaws clamped around his throat with crushing force.
A snapping turtle.
James's mind raced. There weren't supposed to be snapping turtles in this area. The campgrounds were carefully maintained, the wildlife docile. But then—
His thoughts flickered to his neighbors. Their lost pet.
"No way."
Who in their right mind kept a snapping turtle as a pet? Let alone for kids?
His strength was fading fast. Blood loss, shock, the sheer absurdity of it all—his limbs grew heavy, his vision darkening at the edges. As his breath grew shallow, a grim realization settled over him.
At least he wouldn't have to go back to that miserable job.
At least the debts would die with him.
The pain began to recede, replaced by a strange numbness. He waited for death, expecting darkness.
Instead, nausea hit him like a wave.
And when he opened his eyes again—
He wasn't in the forest anymore.
A dimly lit room surrounded him, the air thick with the scent of incense. Standing before him was a man draped in an oversized robe, his face obscured by shadow. The stranger stared down at James, then spoke in a language that twisted in his ears like broken code:
*"&$@@?: *%~~==?"}*
James could only stare, his mind struggling to comprehend one impossible thing after another.
Where was he?
And why wasn't he *dead*?