Paul Sherb was seventeen when he left home. His OFTL parents where cruel and violent. He worked at the burger Jacks down the street and saved up for a few weeks. When all his Mutant Jazz CD's where gone he hit the road. His parents so square burned his last form of entertainment of freedom. He decided that anywhere was better and black left eye still fading he packed a few items in his back pack and he walked into the night away away.
In the Wildlands
Paul knew the last place anyone would search for him was the Wildlands. A vast ancient forest on the edge of the fields past town. That's where he went. In the dark of light aided by flash light bursts here and there. It was scary in the woods at night. All sorts of night animals making sounds around him. He came to the ruins of a house. Carved out of a pale red stone. It must be thousands of years old yet it looks like a modern house. Could be any house on this street excepting its red stone and crumbled with eons. He went inside and rolled out his sleeping bag. No one knew he was gone yet as he slept in the ruins of a ancient modern city. That morning he ate three of the six granola bars he packed and he walked around exploring the ancient buildings. Some where just a couple leaning walls. While others still had roofs and wooden shelves that held mounds of rust that once where microwaves and toasters. But Paul Sherb finds he don't want to leave here. He searches the surrounding area for food. He finds a canyon lined with the ruins of more buildings, some of the red stone like the ones he found earlier others of a faded to light gray fired clay. He could cross swallow canyon on the foundations of buildings that once crossed over them. He found some apples and peaches growing in the area and he stayed here another couple of days. The search was out but no one searched the Wild Lands. Many searchers disappeared here themselves in the past. Hollowed out torsos of runaways have been found here. Paul spend another spooky night with a fire burning bright in a cracked clay fire place. He had wonderful adventurous dreams that he quickly forget in the morning.
Chawville
Its morning again. Paul eats a granola bar , this one is peanut butter watermelon. He is saving his water radish bar for last its his favorite. A few apples and peaches sustain his walk into the edge of a small town. Paul really don't like the looks of this place. There is a big sign arched over the road reading "Chawville". And from this sign hangs a Mollkin. In death his head toes drop. He pants are down and his genitals have been burned and beaten and hacked away. Swinging in the breeze and stinking like days dead. Paul keeps to the thick woods outside the town. Gun shots ring out here and there. Never seems more then twelve minutes before the next shot or shots boom. But he heard animal calls go back and forth and some of them sounded too much like people imitating animals. He felt he was being cat and moused. some group more familiar with the landscape where calling back and forth playing a game for which he shall not benefit. He picked up and the pace and avoided the calls but began feeling he was being herded farther away from civilization. Then he saw a Man speed across the woods trail and vanish into the trees on the other side. He didn't get a good look but the Man looked WRONG. Deformed or something. Was he waiting just out of site ahead for him to pass and be way layed. A loud bellowing goatish bray from behind Pual set him going. Into a large round clearing in the center of the woods. At even intervals where Goat Men with erect cocks. He had been herded, to be gang raped in some ancient twisted weird sacrifice. The clearing as chewed short by the Goat Men, a perfect lawn fertilized with the bodies of their Male or Female victims. Satyrs of old but with a heavy dose in Human cross breeding for generations. Paul ran with a near black out of panic. The Goat Men howled and gave chase. Laughing whooping, bleating.
Paul ran like never before adrenalin and instinct. He fought off one Goat Man who jumped from a tree on him. He wiggled out of a couple grasps and out of breath he ran down a long slope to the highway below. He ran between cars and slowed down to a job looking behind him often. No sign of the goat Men.
Planet Blue
Paul nibbled away his last granola bar as he walked beside the road enduring shouted insults and hurled cigarettes from passers by in cars. Always the woods on the other side of the road and as evening drew near and a couple times he glimpsed Goat Men at the edge of the woods. A big brightly lit building was ahead. A travel service to Planet Blue. Paul bought the cheapest ticket with everything he had and he was off.
Paul was dirty tired and with ragged clothes by now it having been a rough road. He was broke and he washed off a little in a restroom sink in a vast shopping area in one of the tourist shopping mega buildings put up over the burial mounds the Poldaki blue skins had been making here for ten thousand years. It was there he encountered a smirking 12 year old beefy boy in a Bullyscouts uniform. Their creedo pushes aggressive behavior and this musle augmentated little brat was laughing at his McFing6 shirt. "That faggot band! I hear they suck the grease off Mollkin's head toes".