For context, I’m 83m and I used to work as missionary in my youth. I’ve been involved in the Christian church since birth, and God has always been apart of my life. However my faith is the only thing I can thank my parents for. As a child my father was neglectful at best and abusive at worst. My mother did her best to care for me but she had other children who needed her attention too. She couldn't afford to spend much time with me. Her work kept her busy and made sure we would eat. But there were times when she didn't come home from the fields for days at a time. So, when my church began their missionary initiative, I didn’t have much to lose, and wanted to give back to the God who had been there for me throughout my hardships.

I joined the missionaries immediately after my eighteenth birthday, and we were shipped off to a previously uncontacted island near Papa New Guinea. We arrived at the edge of what was once jungle but now only contained small patches of trees interspersed with large swaths of cleared land. The natives lived in huts made of wood and leaves, and our mission was to convert them to Christianity by whatever means necessary.

The first few weeks went smoothly. We taught them about God, the Bible, and basic Christian values. They listened to us respectfully, though they never took part in the lesson. At night we slept in tents around fires that burned constantly. But then one evening we discovered something strange while we were resting. One of the missionaries spotted it while he was walking around the perimeter of our camp: a small patch of skin peeking out from inside of a tree. He brought his flashlight closer and saw a pulsating mass of flesh that crawled beneath the surface of the tree. He fell back in horror and surprise and ran back to the tent where he woke the rest of the missionary staff, including me. We all gathered around the tree to investigate.

It was the strangest thing I had ever seen. We pulled more bark off the tree to reveal the same fleshy mass. Eventually, we had stripped the tree completely and found nothing but skin and muscle. By that point we were all thoroughly horrified at this discovery, and agreed not to go further for the time being. After we returned to camp, we decided to keep the news to ourselves, as there was clearly something wrong about this island. The last thing we wanted was to let the native tribe know that we knew. Instead we told them we simply went to explore the island and became lost.

The next day, the chief of the island came to speak with me. His English was poor, but he was a fast learner and I was able to understand him to some degree. He asked me why we had gone so far into the jungle. That there were dangerous things out there, and it was for the best that we remain in the camp limits. I could see the knowing glint in his eye. He knew we had seen something we weren’t supposed to, and he was not happy. So, I gave him my word that we’d stick within the appropriate area. That seemed to calm him, but there was still an air of unease and tension between us.

Weeks passed without incident, until one morning a group of tribal members approached me. They wanted to get to know me better. They asked if I was married, and what my family looked like. At first I felt uncomfortable answering their questions, but after some coaxing they convinced me it was okay. My heart raced as they began asking about my childhood, and the relationship with my parents. They asked if I had brothers or sisters, and how many, and if I had any kids yet. When I answered no, they smiled and said maybe soon. It was strange seeing them so friendly. It wasn’t like that had been violent before, but certainly cautious, yet now they stood before me like old friends. It made me uneasy, and I told them I had to go. The sinister smiles didn’t leave their faces as they watched me walk away back to my camp.

It got worse from there. One night I awoke to hear voices from outside my tent. I thought nothing of it and continued to sleep, but then I heard a loud scream. I jumped up and grabbed my weapon, but when I peeked outside the tent, I saw no one. The moon was bright and I could see the entire camp, and it was empty. Not stopping to wake up the othermissionaries I let my curiosity lead me further into the empty village. I crept through the huts and found nothing out of place except the cutting silence. Defeated and confused I turned back to my camp, as I noticed a light on the inactive volcano. It appeared to be to a group making their way to the top. Ignoring the warning inside me to turn and run I resolved to discover once and for all the truth about the island. What I had thought was a long walk to the base passed within minutes as my head throbbed with the desire to know. Was it my head throbbing? Or was it the ground beneath me, pulsating and squirming underneath the dirt surface. As I neared the summit I began to see more and more of those fleshy lumps poking from the ground, the trees, the plants, everything. I couldn't help but feel as if the earth itself was alive.

I reached the top I was greeted with the sight of the village standing together as if in prayer. A stone alter sat next to the edge, carved with strange symbols. In the haze I could barely make out the figure kneeling at the altar, but it was obvious he was praying. What horrified me far more than this however, was what surrounded me. It was flesh. The entire crater was made of the sticky pink tissue that writhed and wriggled beneath the praying figures. The deep hole inside the lump of flesh was full of flailing pink tentacles covered in tooth-like spikes. I ducked down to avoid being spotted, but it was too late. The villagers noticed me and shouted angrily. Several of them apprehended me and I struggled to break free to no avail. They dragged me to the altar where the leader was waiting with a knife.

"You can see it now, can’t you?” He croaked. “The truth of this island. You've seen it."

His eyes widened as he saw the horrified look on my face and he grinned.

“It’s…alive.” I said fearfully.

His smile morphed into a scowl.

“Alive?! No. It is so much more. It blessed us with this home. But, it demands sacrifice if we wish to continue thriving here.”

He raised the blade and prepared to slit my throat. However, the tension was suddenly broken by a loud gunshot. The leader fell to the ground holding his fresh wound.

“Nobody move!” One of my partners stood several meters away from the tribe. I rushed forward towards him, running across the sticky flesh. Two of the natives jumped on my partner, pinning him to the ground and clutching at his arms.

"What do you think you're doing?!" He yelled. "Are you trying to get yourself killed? Run!”

I know you might think I’m evil for leaving him like I did. But I was only a kid, and I was completely in shock. I raced past him as he struggled against the tribesman. Forest and flesh groaned and writhed as I bolted through it. I didn't stop until I felt the cool ocean air on my face. The sound of waves crashing onto the beach brought me back to reality. It was over. I collapsed onto the sand, my body shaking in terror and tears streaming down my cheeks. The other missionaries and I radioed an SOS, and by God’s grace, a nearby tanker was able to pick us up. I’ve never told anyone this story, but now that death is coming to claim me I felt I had to share it. I believe it could be what keeps me from going to hell. I also want to warn everyone about the horrible things happening on the island. I hope this reaches the right person, and that you take this seriously.