Fighting Soul BF

There is a monster in the Amazon, and it's not an axe-murderer or a serial killer. It is a force of nature that will take everything away from you if you let it, but can also be swayed by simple kindness. It is called Soul.

There is no one who knows exactly where it came from. There are all sorts of stories about how people were walking through the jungle and saw this great black cloud of smoke and ash, then went insane. Some say that Soul takes people and makes them into monsters, some say it takes plants and animals and makes them into monsters, some say that it takes a part of you when you're near it and uses it to make its own kind. No one knows for sure. There are whispers about cults that worship the thing, but I've never found any evidence of that.

What I do know is this: The thing exists, and if you get too close to it, your soul gets eaten. Not figuratively eaten, either; your soul gets sucked out of your body and you collapse onto the ground in a heap while the thing uses your soul to make something called "Black Blood". Whatever Black Blood is, I don't know. But ever since I was little I was told not to go near Soul because bad things would happen if I did.

My father was an explorer who discovered this place deep in the heart of Brazil called "the wasteland". An area that looked like normal ground covered with living plants, but after a few days the plants died out and didn't grow back for years at a time. It was said to be cursed ground, which my father thought he could investigate for his next research paper. He didn't return from there for two weeks; when he did return he was different somehow. He started having these fits where he wouldn't move until someone shook him hard; when he woke up from these fits he would just stare at nothing until given something to eat or drink. After we finally realized what he had gotten himself into we packed up our stuff as quickly as possible and left the area before anything else happened to us.

I was born five years later in an isolated village where I grew up learning how to fight using various weapons like knives and spears, only going into town every once in a while to restock on food and water while exercising my skills so they don't atrophy away from disuse. And now here I am at twenty-three years old in this small boat with my friend Estero - well, we call her Estero when she's not around - but her real name is Esther Maria Rodrigues Solari. She's been my best friend since high school, but she doesn't really talk much so we usually just keep quiet with each other unless there's something worth talking about. We're both armed with machetes just in case something happens; we're heading towards the most dangerous place in South America: "the wasteland".

We've heard rumors about a group of people who were supposedly lured into "the wasteland" by Soul itself, so we're going to go find them and see what happened to them. They said they'd be wearing orange robes or something like that so we'll be able to identify them from afar if they haven't been killed already by Soul or Black Blood; the latter would probably explain why those people never showed up again after entering "the wasteland", though we won't really know until we get there ourselves.

A few hours pass by without incident; Esther moves the rudder around occasionally to steer us away from some rocks jutting out of the river while I keep watch for threats floating downstream towards us in case another boat goes by us without any notice being taken of us first. Esther sees me staring off into space sometimes so she starts nudging me with her elbow whenever she feels like I'm zoning out too much after seeing nothing momentous happen yet again during our journey downriver past various violent rapids and angry gorillas looking at us funny as they swing through trees along the banks of the river trying to swat at us whenever we get too close for comfort; personally I think they look pretty cute as long as they don't start throwing shit at us or trying to eat our boat like those piranha fish floating around aimlessly wherever you look either way...

The sun starts setting behind some tall mountains along our port side as Esther makes a turn upstream towards some shallow water near where our friends were supposed to be waiting for us so long ago after getting their message across over radio waves sent from their camp site deep within "the wasteland". As Esther slowly guides our boat towards shore Estero stands up on top of our canopy tent sitting atop our boat holding her knife tightly while keeping her eyes open for any sign of movement nearby getting ready to strike anyone who tries anything suspicious against us right away before they can even touch us...

As soon as our boat gently nudges against soft muddy sand Esther jumps out first with her machete raised high above her head ready to strike at whoever's nearby waiting for us on shore...