I'm going to tell you a story

It's going to involve nature defending itself

And how communications can be distorted and ill-received

Oh and maybe a sexy hot yoga class

Welcome to the Aurora Wasteland

Everything calls for help differently. Humans have the luxury of language. To say we have a lot of them is an understatement. Other life on earth has to resort to more basic forms of communication. Basic as perceived by us. When in reality, a lot of life has more efficient forms of sending out warnings. To steal a line from one of the greatest thinkers of our time, "Life finds a way."

Every morning Wade went for a jog. He'd leave his apartment and venture down into the river valley. There the plethora of trails would give him endless combinations of trails to take. No two days had repeated themselves for months.

He'd taken to bringing his camera with him a few years ago. The river valley provided beautiful vistas of the rising sun every morning. Which he did take daily, though the breathtaking sunrise wasn't the only part of his trip he'd photograph.

No matter what path he chose to start his run on, it always ended in the same place. A small grass area only a few minutes from the end of his run. A park that every morning was the host of a morning yoga group. Wade would slow his run and snap a few photos of the women as they exercised. Then instead of rushing home to go all creepy old man on them, he'd walk over to the group as they wrapped up their class, and he'd show them the pictures he took. The group knew him well, some of them really well, most of them actually. He was a good, if not a great photographer, and while he enjoyed taking pictures of the rising sun, the bedroom was where he did his best work.

He'd recruited most of the women from the class to be models back at his place by snapping photos of them at the park, then showing the pictures to them. At first, the group acted insulted, but over time, his talent with the camera was undeniable. So one woman caved, then another. Now it was almost a weekly thing for one of them to come back with him.

What happened after the photos were taken varied widely depending on which woman you asked, though not as widely if you asked Wade. Once they were done and satisfied, he'd send them the pictures.

One morning Wade noticed something different as he slowed his jog and approached the park. There was a different smell in the air. A smell everyone in the world knows. The smell of freshly cut grass. He hadn't noticed it before on his jogs, and he chalked it up to the city changing the time of day that it cut the grass at this particular location.

But the smell of grass wasn't the only thing that was different. As he approached the spot that the yoga group often utilized, he was confronted by the women running from the park. Panicked, he asked them what was wrong, he assumed the worst, he assumed one of them had been hurt, or worse attacked by someone. Only that wasn't the case. And details of what actually happened are vague. But what Wade did manage to get from one of the women as she ran past him was that they'd had an accident, all of them. Confused Wade asked what kind of accident. To which the women replied in a harsh and embarrassed tone, the kind no one wants to talk about. It took a few minutes for what the woman had said to Wade to really sink in and for him to understand them. But once it did, Wade laughed, the women had pooped themselves. All of them? What kind of yoga poses were they doing in that class?

Tickled by the event, Wade told his friend and neighbor Jack. He was a writer that had struck rules about no exercising before 11 pm, and even the exercising was mostly wrist related. He'd never taken Wade up on his many offers to jog with him. But after the story of the women in the park, he said he was closer than ever.

The next day as Wade completed his run, the smell of the grass was no longer there, neither were the women. Saddened, Wade assumed they all skipped out of sheer embarrassment. Though the same thing happened the next day and the next. Enough days passed that Wade was starting to doubt what he'd witnessed.

It wasn't until a week later that Wade smelled the grass again. As he approached where the women normally yogaed, he could hear them yelling before he saw them. The women had formed some sort of circle, with two women inside. The outside of the circle seemed to be cheering for the two women inside the circle, who were inches from each other's faces and were spitting insults at each other.

Wade watched from the safety of his path. He snapped a few pictures and chalked the whole thing up to them all being on their periods at the same time. This theory was later debunked, and is never the case, ever.

The next day the grass smell was gone, and the women were back to doing yoga. Wade kept his distance from them.

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Just like after the first time he'd smelled the grass, it wasn't until a week later that he smelled it again. Mondays, the smell was there Mondays and Mondays only.

With the smell in the air and the last two strange events linked to it, Wade cautiously approached the yoga spot. Again the women were in a circle, and again there were two women in the middle. Only this time, they weren’t yelling at each other. No, this time, one of the women had the other pinned down and was repeatedly punching her in the face. Over and over, Wade watched as the woman's hand came back bloodier and bloodier.

Unsure of what to do, Wade snapped some pictures and called the police about it. He never heard back from them about this specific incident. Wade also filled his friend Jack in on the latest fight club and yoga club. Intrigued by the idea and a possible story idea, Jack told Wade he would go with him next week.

And to Wade's surprise next Monday morning Jack was dressed and waiting for him outside to begin his jog. With Jack in tow, the run took triple its normal time. But neither of the men cared. In fact their excitement peaked as they approached the park. The smell was back. But it wasn't the only smell, something fowl mixed with the fresh cut grass smell.

And as they approached the yoga spot, expecting to see a fight taking place, they were greeted with human remains spread over the grass like fertilizer. Pieces from the inside and out of one of the yoga women were all around them.

Jack immediately threw up. He claimed it was from the jog. Needless to say they called the police. This time they heard back from them, and the next day there was police tape up and officers everywhere. No yoga women to be seen.

That night Jack and Wade discussed the events. All of it made no sense to either of them. But Jack suggested they call his friend Pratt, who as Jack put it, liked weird stuff. So they did, and less than an hour later Pratt was over. They filled him in about the yoga women and the smell of the grass. He in turn told them about the AW, and his love of pizza. They then ordered some pizza, and made a plan.

Next week all three of them were going to jog in the morning, and Pratt was going to bring some sciency stuff alone. He had equipment for measuring weird stuff.

That week as Wade jogged by the park, he saw the yoga group had returned to their normal. No fighting and no guts spread everywhere. Though he didn't take pictures or approach them.

As the next Monday arrived, Pratt met him at his apartment with a backpack full of snacks and a handheld...something, he couldn't remember the name, but it was supposed to tell them if weirdness was in the air. Wade laughed at the idea. Pratt didn't. As they waited for Jack, the two men shared some of their weird experiences. Wade told him that once he had a dream, he was going to lose a tooth, then later that day did. Pratt countered that story by telling Wade he'd once died, but it was in a different timeline, so it didn't really count. The two men concluded that their stories were equal in their weirdness.

With conversation running thin, the two men went to find out what was taking Jack so long. They were greeted by a note on Jack's door. It read, "Hey Ladies, I couldn't stand the thought of jogging again, so I drove. Meet you there. Jack."

So, the two men, having only met less than a week ago, set out to jog together with a backpack full of trail mix, whatever device Pratt had, and Wade's camera.

The jog and the trail mix were better than either man had hoped for. Pratt had more weird stories and filled Wade in on how he'd once died. The thought of what they were actually there to do had faded to the backs of their minds. It was only when the smell of grass hit them that the two men remembered where they were there.

Jack's car was the first thing they saw. Quickly after, they heard howls of pain and pleas for mercy. Both men recognized the voice. It was Jack's. They sprinted from the jogging path, following the cries of pain. The sounds of agony led them exactly where the two men thought it would. The same place the women had been doing yoga.

A crucifix stood where Wade had previously taken pictures of the women. Jack was nailed to it. Blood poured down his naked body.

The women stood around him in a circle. Their hands held in front of them. They all were holding something.

The two men slowed their sprint to a cautious approach as they got closer. What became apparent was the women were holding grass clippings. Piles of it. And they were chanting. Something neither man understood.

One of the women approached Jack, and with the help of a step stool, she shoved grass into his mouth. Then sliced a lawnmower blade through Jack's chest and presumably his heart.

The screams of pain stopped. The grass in Jack's mouth mixed with his blood, as it fell down his body. The chanting from the women increased at the sight.

Pratt and Wade froze in fear. Jack was dead, there was no coming back like Pratt had claimed had once happened to him.

As the two men turned to leave, the women noticed them and sprinted towards them. Grass falling from their mouths. Their eyes green with anger.

The two men did the only thing they could think of, they ran, as fast as they could. They ran until there were no women following them. Wade, then promptly called the police. And Pratt called the Aurora Wasteland, hoping to get a team of paranormal investigators out there before the police showed.

As the police and the AW showed up to the scene, both Jack's body and car were gone.

The police investigation is ongoing. Though thanks to Wade's pictures of the yoga group, they knew exactly who the women were.

Two days later it snowed, Wade has yet to see any more weird activity from the grassy area yoga club.

The AW investigation, on the other hand, found something interesting. The lawn cutting schedule was changed around the time Wade first reported strange activity. And that on the mornings before Wade witnessed the strange events, the grass in the area was cut.

The smell of fresh cut grass, while pleasant to humans, is actually a warning to other grass in the area. The leading AW theory is that the grass warning somehow spread to the yoga group and that they acted in defense of the cries for help.

Wade has taken to peeing on the grass as he jogs past, just in case.