 I've been seeing news articles discussing how this summer marks the return of the cicadas after a 17-year slumber. I didn't give this any mind. I remember how last time hardly any came out, and they said pollution or some other kind of illness interrupted the cycle. Now I know that wasn't the case at all. The cicadas are all gone, and something else took their place. Something much worse. Over the weekend, I took advantage of the nice weather and went on a hike at a local park. Since I'd hardly been out of my house the past year, I chose one of the longer trails which the signs estimated took three to four hours to complete. I had a backpack with snacks and water, so the time didn't bother me. The first half of the hike went without incident. I was a little winded going uphill the first mile or so, but after it evened out, I had a much easier time. I passed a few others hiking, some with dogs, others zipping by on mountain bikes. Near the halfway point, there was another incline and then a nice view at the top with some benches and picnic tables. I took a quick rest and ate some of the snacks I brought. The wind picked up and clouds rolled in front of the sun. The shade was nice as I'd been sweating, but I was worried I misread the weather report and was going to get caught in a rainstorm. I packed up my stuff and started back on the path. After 15 minutes or so, I noticed that the birds and insects had stopped making noise. The sky was still dark, but I couldn't see any storm clouds through the trees. The silence was eerie, but I assumed it was from the approaching storm. How I wish that was the case. There was no storm that day, not a drop of rain. I was about to start moving again when I noticed something strange a couple yards off trail. There was a wide depression in the ground, almost like a tiny crater. It was clear of grass or plants of any kind, not even rocks or twigs. It was an almost perfect circle of dirt, and within that another nearly perfect ring of mushrooms. They were purple with white spots. They didn't look real at first, more like a prop from a children's show or picture book. I moved in closer to try and get a picture of it. Somehow my boot got snagged on a root. I fell forward and slid down into the small crater. I'd crushed some of the mushrooms as I fell in small puffs of yellow spores shot up into the air. I sneezed repeatedly and tried to wave it away. As I sat up and dusted myself off, I thought I heard thunder in the distance. The ground shook below me. It opened up, and I realized it wasn't thunder at all. I think I blacked out for a second, it's hard to recall the exact chain of events. It seems like a lot happened in a short amount of time. But the next thing I remembered was being in a hollow five feet below where I'd fallen. I didn't think there were sinkholes in this area, but did I really know anything about that? They could be anywhere. The hole was slightly wider than the opening above, with tangled roots poking out of the earth. I went to stand up and heard a crunch. My first thought was that I'd broken a bone or something. It wasn't that far of a fall, and I didn't feel any pain other than some dull aches. I pushed myself up, more crunching. I could feel rounded shapes smush under my hands, like acorns or something. When my eyes finally ingested, I could see the ground was littered with dead bugs. I shivered and tried to wipe off my hands and stood up as quickly as I could. But the more I backed away, the more of them I stepped on. The sound was nauseating. It was a relief that they weren't moving at least. They had long wings and striped bodies. At first I thought bees or wasps, but then I realized these must be cicadas. I remembered the news stories of the brood returning this year. Were they hibernating? I leaned forward and picked one up. No, they were dead. I tried my best to ignore the hundreds of dead cicadas on the ground. I jumped up towards the opening above, but the ledge gave way. Clumps of dirt fell on top of me. I shook it off and tried again, but no, still not solid enough to hold my weight. As the dust settled from my third attempt, I noticed a thick root sticking out near the top that might do the trick. I was about to jump. When I noticed something on the wall across from me, dry earth was seeping out of a small point in the wall. It grew larger and larger until it was the size of a fist. Finally, the thing that was digging through broke out and tumbled onto the floor. It had rolled its scaled carapace into a ball like a roly-poly and then unfolded itself again. It looked like a cockroach, but much longer, nearly a foot by my estimates. It scurried along the ground, making this horrible clicking noise. Before I could even react, it was crawling up my leg. I shook my leg and swatted at the thing. It felt heavier than it ought to. I was finally able to smack it away as it reached my knee. It landed on the other side of the hole, once again rolled up into a ball. This time, however, when it unfurled, it rose up on its hind legs and faced me. I was expecting a normal insect-like body, a centipede or something like that. But no, this thing had a face. Not an insect's face, but a humanoid one, cold black eyes, a sharp nose, and rows of jagged teeth clicking and scraping against each other as it shattered to itself. It had tons of legs, but each one had a kind of three-fingered hand at the end. I can't describe the sudden twinge of terror that fell over me. If I ever come face to face with a grizzly or a shark in the wild, it might come close. Whatever this was, it shook me. Even beyond the physical harm, it threatened with those sharp teeth. There was a kind of spiritual horror on top of everything. This thing felt wrong. It was wrong. I wonder if it delighted in my horror and disgust, when it slid its slick, transparent wings out of its shell and its spraying in the air, buzzing like a wasp. I fell backwards, more dead insects crunched under my weight as I crawled back until I was against the dirt wall. My hands instinctively searched the ground around me, and I grabbed a heavy, dirt-covered stone. I chucked the rock as hard as I could, and somehow it hit. The thing screeched and went down. I should have stomped on it until it was nothing more than goo, but I leapt for the root and pulled myself out of the hole and ran back down the path, all the way to my car. I didn't see anything strange, the whole frenzy dash back to the parking lot, but I heard buzzing and chittering, enough for an entire swarm. I kept glancing over my shoulder, but the woods appeared calm and normal. If it was real, if I really saw what I think I saw, then they must have been following me underground, through small interconnected tunnels, like a giant ant hill, the size of a mountain. I've checked that all my windows are closed a few times since arriving home, and I shoved old rags and towels into the gaps under my front door. I need to find something more sturdy, duct tape maybe, but it will do for now. My plan for this summer is to stay indoors and keep the windows closed. I suggest you do the same.