I dug this up out of the ground today. There’s a trail I walk often - what looks like an old, abandoned golf course. I’ve been coming here for the past three years, mostly barefoot. Families walk here. Kids. Older folks. And lately, some punks on dirt bikes tearing up the hills.

Over time, I’ve noticed the supposed “owner” or caretaker of this land trying to push back against the vandalism. Bollards blocking bridges. “You’re on camera” signs nailed to trees. Chain-link fences lining the property. And now… this medieval contraption buried just below the surface.

I’m guessing it was designed to blow the tires off those dirt bikes. But today, it almost tore through my foot.

It was a thick 2x4, about three feet long, held down by heavy steel stakes. Dozens of massive nails stuck out like fangs, angled for maximum damage. I felt it the instant it touched my skin. It hurt - but luckily, it didn’t pierce deep.

Even with shoes, it could’ve caused real harm. But barefoot? That could’ve been life-altering.

And all I could think about was: Who builds something like this?

Someone out there is in their garage, probably late at night, constructing this thing - driven by pure malice. Not thinking about the kids. The old folks. Anyone else walking through. Just hellbent on “getting the fuckers.”

That level of tunnel vision… it’s dark. It’s not just anger. It’s a kind of madness. A need for control. A thirst for revenge, no matter the collateral damage.

And that’s the part that gets me. This isn’t just about a booby trap on a trail...

It’s a reminder: the capacity for cruelty still lives among us. To think what happened in Nazi Germany couldn’t happen again is naive. That darkness still exists. Sometimes it’s not in governments - it’s just in one guy, alone in his garage, with a hammer, nails, and a warped sense of justice.