M.A. Kleen

Please enjoy this horror short, part of a series experimenting with artificial intelligence. I fed a location, plot, characters, scenario, and mood into ChatGPT and asked it to craft a story, then used Stable Diffusion XL to create an illustration. How did it turn out? Well, you be the judge.

Lost in the depths of the Amazon rain forest, a man stumbles upon a mysterious cave, only to discover that the jungle’s darkest horrors are not outside—but lurking deep within.

Day 1: The Descent

I don’t know how this happened. One minute I was with the group, and the next, I’m stumbling through this godforsaken jungle alone. The air here feels alive, oppressive. It’s so thick I can barely breathe without choking on the heat. Everything moves. The trees, the vines, the underbrush—they sway and twist, almost as if they’re reaching for me. The Amazon isn’t just a forest; it’s a beast.

I should have stayed with the group. I should have listened when the guide told us to stick together, but my pride got in the way. I thought I could take a shortcut, impress everyone by finding my own path back to camp. Now, I’m paying for that arrogance.

The jungle is endless. It’s like walking through the same scene on repeat—towering trees with twisted trunks, thick vines hanging like nooses, and the ever-present hum of insects. And the sounds… they’re maddening. At first, I thought I could recognize them—birds, monkeys, the occasional rustle of small animals. But now, they’re something else entirely.

There’s a clicking sound in the distance, a low growl that vibrates through the ground. I keep telling myself it’s just my imagination, but I can’t shake the feeling that something is watching me. Something that’s not supposed to be here.

I’ll rest for now. I have to. I don’t know where I am, and it’s getting dark. I need to conserve my strength.

Day 2: Alone

Woke up to find a spider the size of my hand crawling up my arm. I screamed and flung it off, but that was only the start. They’re everywhere. The jungle floor is a living, crawling carpet of insects. Ants with pincers sharp as razors, beetles that look like they belong in a nightmare, and centipedes—god, the centipedes. Their bodies coil and uncoil with a sickening grace, and they move too fast for something that long. I’ve already been bitten twice. My hand is swollen and numb.

I tried finding a trail today, but every direction looks the same. The sun barely penetrates the canopy, so I can’t use it to navigate. My compass is useless—spinning, as if the jungle itself is mocking me. The ground is uneven and soft, like walking on a decomposing corpse. Roots tangle around my feet, tripping me every few steps, and the smell… it’s a mix of wet earth and rotting vegetation, so thick I can almost taste it.

The noises are louder now. At night, they grow unbearable. It’s not just the insects anymore; there’s something else. A distant thudding, like drums or a heartbeat. Sometimes, I think I hear voices—faint whispers carried on the wind. I tell myself it’s just the trees creaking, but deep down, I know it’s something more. I’m not alone out here. I can feel eyes on me, even though I can’t see them.

Day 4: Desperation

I’ve lost track of how long I’ve been walking. Time doesn’t exist in this place. Day and night blur together, and the jungle plays tricks on the mind. Sometimes, I think I see someone—just a flicker of movement through the trees—but when I call out, there’s no response. It’s as if the jungle itself is hiding them, taunting me.

My throat is parched, and my skin burns from the relentless humidity. I found a stream this morning, but it was filled with leeches. Tiny black worms that latched onto my skin the moment I got close. I managed to scrape them off, but now I’m afraid to drink the water. I’ll die if I don’t, though. The hunger gnaws at me, but it’s the thirst that’s unbearable.

I can’t take the noise anymore. It’s constant now, a ceaseless droning that’s inside my head. There’s something in the trees. I can hear it moving, rustling the leaves as it follows me. I catch glimpses of dark shapes darting through the canopy, too fast to be human. I’ve stopped calling for help. Whatever is out here with me doesn’t want to help—it wants to watch.

Day 5: The Cave

I found shelter. It’s a cave, small and damp but a blessing nonetheless. The opening is narrow, barely wide enough for me to squeeze through, but inside it opens up into a larger chamber. There’s water here—stagnant, but water nonetheless. I drank it, knowing full well it might be my last mistake, but at this point, I don’t care.

The cave offers some relief from the jungle, but it’s not much better. The air inside is stale, heavy with the scent of decay. And the walls… they’re covered in a thin, slick film, like the place is sweating. Every time I move, my footsteps echo, the sound bouncing off the stone in a way that makes it hard to tell how deep it goes.

I’ve seen no sign of other people. Not even animals. Just… more bugs. Bigger bugs. The centipedes are worse here—fat, red things that scuttle across the ground and disappear into cracks in the walls. I’ve tried to kill a few, but they don’t die easily. Their bodies twitch and writhe long after I’ve smashed them.

I’m not sure if it’s safer in here or out there.

Day 6: The Darkness Moves

There’s something deeper in the cave.

Last night, I heard it for the first time. A faint sound like a thousand nails tapping on the stone. At first, I thought it was just more bugs, but this was different. Rhythmic. Purposeful. I tried to ignore it, telling myself it was my mind playing tricks, but it grew louder as the night went on.

It’s not my imagination.

This morning, I noticed something I hadn’t seen before—marks on the walls. Not just random scratches, but deliberate carvings. Symbols I don’t recognize, etched deep into the rock, as if by clawed hands. Some of them look like faces, twisted and elongated, staring at me with hollow eyes. Others are more abstract, but they all fill me with a sense of dread I can’t explain.

The cave is getting to me. The darkness inside feels alive, pressing in on me, suffocating me. And the noise—the scraping—it’s closer now. Whatever is making that sound is coming for me.

Day 7: I Am Not Alone

I should never have come into this cave.

I woke up in the middle of the night, my skin crawling with a sensation I can’t describe. It felt like a thousand tiny legs marching across my body. When I lit my torch, I saw them—spiders. Hundreds of them. Big, hairy things with bodies the size of my fist. They were crawling over me, dropping from the ceiling, pouring out of the cracks in the walls.

I screamed and flailed, but it only made it worse. The more I thrashed, the more they swarmed. I managed to run outside, into the open air, where they finally stopped. But now I’m afraid to go back in. I don’t know what’s worse—facing whatever’s out here in the jungle or returning to that nest of horrors.

The markings on the walls—they’ve changed. I’m sure of it. They’re deeper now, more detailed, as if something has been working on them in the night. And the symbols… I think they’re a warning. A warning I didn’t heed.

Day 8: The Thing in the Dark

I’m being hunted.

I saw it. Last night, after the spiders drove me out of the cave, I saw something moving in the trees. It was tall, its limbs too long, its movements too fluid to be human. At first, I thought it was a trick of the light, but then it stepped into the moonlight, and I knew.

I ran back into the cave. I had no other choice. But now I’m trapped. I can’t leave, and I can’t stay. The thing outside is waiting for me, and the thing inside… it’s growing bolder. I can hear it tapping the walls, getting closer with each passing hour. Sometimes, I hear whispering—faint voices that seem to come from the stone itself. I don’t understand the language, but the tone is unmistakable. It wants me.

I’ve sealed myself in the deepest part of the cave, but I know it won’t hold. Whatever is in here with me is coming. I can feel it in my bones, in the air I breathe. The symbols on the walls—they pulse with a strange energy, like they’re alive, watching, waiting.

Day 9: The End

This is it.

The thing in the dark is here. It’s been lurking at the entrance for hours now, and I can hear its breathing—slow, deliberate. It knows I’m inside. I can’t see it, but I can feel it. Its presence presses against my chest, making it hard to breathe. The air is thick with the smell of rot.

I tried to leave, but when I reached the mouth of the cave, it was there—standing in the shadows, waiting. There’s no escape.

I’m back in the deepest chamber now, huddled against the wall, trying to ignore the spiders and centipedes that crawl over my skin. The whispers are louder. They’re inside my head, telling me things, terrible things. I can’t block them out.

I won’t survive this. I can feel my mind unraveling. The thing is coming for me, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. My only solace is that I won’t have to hear those whispers anymore. Soon, it will all be over.

If anyone finds this journal, please—don’t come looking for me. Don’t come into this jungle. There’s something here, something ancient and hungry, and it won’t let you leave.

It never lets anyone leave.