Things are starting to haze together. The poison is starting to wear off. It has been a few days since I got pierced by that dart, and I was sure I would die. The pain was tremendous, it felt as if my very nerves were melting. As I laid there, dying and trembling in a stain of my own fluids, I felt the eyes on me. Hundreds, no, thousands of them. Watching me from the darkness, waiting for my heart to stop beating. I can feel them now, bearing down on me from every angle, but I cannot see them. No, they are too smart for that. Why they do not strike me down as I stumble through the brush escapes me. Perhaps they prefer a dead meal, and do not wish to fight for a victory. Not that I could put up much of one, as the very air felt thick with death. I took step by tiny step, trying with every muscle still available to me to survive, and with every step that fell on dry leaves and twigs, I heard the shifting in the trees. The forest was thick, dark, and hot. It was a sticky heat, as if the air itself wanted to suffocate me, to stop my progress. I refuse to die here. As my knees give, I refuse to die. As my hands hit the cracked dirt, I refuse to die. I see them now, coming from the blackness. I see the teeth, so many teeth. One comes to me, holding a mallet. It was almost comical, to see the thing carrying something that looked like it belonged at a carnival game. A smaller one walked up next to him. It knelt down, and lifted something skyward. The larger one, the one with more teeth, it raised the mallet and let out a shriek. It sounded like a child, but guttural. A rumbling left through the walls of teeth that surrounded me, drooling, breathing on me. I imagined being trapped in scalding tar, sinking as it pressed against me. I was paralyzed by fatigue and the death seeping through my veins. The smaller thing lowered his hands, and presented to me the object that it held. It looked like a railroad spike, and it was so close to my face I could smell the rust. The set of smaller teeth placed it above my wrist, and my brain processed what was about to happen. With a swift parting of the air, and a crack, the mallet drove the spike through my tendons. I opened my lips to scream, but I had no air. I collapsed, my body in spasms from the pain. If pain could kill you, I was sure I was standing at Heavens Gate. I refuse to die. I feel the teeth sinking into my back, peeling at my spine. I refuse to die. The muscles tear from my limbs. I refuse to die. I force my head to lift, enough to see the large monster, with its many teeth, raise the mallet one more time. I refuse to di-
Posted on: Fri, 31 Oct 2014 11:20:02 +0000
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