Kevin moves in and takes over

Kevin arrived in January 2026. He did not ask. He simply began claiming parts of the land that Goyslopppp had settled — not through any particular right, but through the kind of confidence that mistakes loudness for legitimacy.

He announced that the land was his to develop. He had plans, he said. Big plans. He told Goyslopppp — and anyone else who would listen — that he would transform the place into something extraordinary. He stood at the valley's edge at some point during this period and said, with apparent sincerity, "I'll always be here."

The wildlife is removed. A mountain disappears.

By March, Kevin had made good on the destructive half of his promises. The natural wildlife that had established itself across the land — animals, flora, the whole layered ecosystem that Goyslopppp had carefully left intact — was removed. Not relocated. Not accounted for. Just gone.

Then came the mountain. There was a mountain on the land. A significant one. Kevin removed it entirely. Flattened it. The reasoning, as best anyone could reconstruct it, was that he wanted the space.

What did Kevin build on the cleared land where the mountain used to be? Nothing. He built nothing. The space he created by removing an entire mountain from the landscape sat empty. Flat. Unused. A monument to intention without follow-through.

The wildlife did not return on its own. The mountain did not come back. The land, stripped of its character, sat in a state that could only be described as aggressively mediocre — not neglected through indifference, but actively damaged through effort that produced no result.

Kevin leaves. Builds nothing. Says nothing.

At some point between the mountain being removed and anything useful being done, Kevin left. There was no formal announcement. No handover of responsibility. No acknowledgment of the condition he was leaving the land in. He simply stopped being there — which, given his promise, carried a certain irony that the remaining caretakers were too busy to properly appreciate at the time.

The land he left behind: one mountain fewer than it started with. Wildlife absent. Paths overgrown. Lanterns unlit. A flat, empty area where something significant used to stand, now serving as a permanent reminder that demolition is not the same thing as development.