Mcbox
05-29-2012, 01:33 PM
This is an unfinished, ongoing story I've been working on the last few days. I'll add more as more time becomes available to complete it.
You wake...
Your head is reeling.
Your body aches...
Slowly, your eyes crack open and the light pours in.
Your ears detect the sound of hooves trampling into the distance, trailed by fading wails of terror...
...
...
As you begin to come to, the smell of blood permeates your nostrils.
You can feel its viscous clench across your face, down your neck...
Then it hits you.
...
A thrashing pain from your left hand pulses up your arm and consumes your body.
Crushed? Severed? You dare not look...
...
Your curiosity peaks and you steadily lift your arm upward.
A quick moment of relief as all digits seem intact at first glance...
A moment immediately swallowed by a large, gaping hole where there was once solid flesh and bone.
Looking at it only enhances the pain...
But you force your eyes to assess the damage.
...
Minutes pass as you lie face up in the sun, gathering your senses.
The acute pain grows in intensity, and you can stand it no longer...
Pulling your brains together you assist yourself upward --
Tucking your right leg under your left, simultaneously lunging your bad arm across,
Your planted elbow heaves your sorry meat up from the earth.
...
The sheer magnitude of the pain throughout you forces unspoken words across your lips.
"Am I going to die here?"
No sooner had those words escaped your mind,
Immediately you are reassured in knowing that your heavy assault would've undoubtedly resulted in death...
If that were your assailant's intentions.
...
Up on one knee, with your impaled hand tucked in tight, you wobble to your feet.
Briefly.
Your right ankle seems to be broken or twisted, but it won't hold your weight.
Now, again, from two knees you shift your focus to your other foot and take a stand.
...
Unsteadily, you hobble to a nearby seat, catching your momentum as it tries to push your weak body over the side.
You look again at your hand.
Blackened.
Throbbing.
Soaked in red.
With your teeth, you pull your right arm from its sleeve and break the stitches at the seam.
...
Though the profuse bleeding has been stopped, the lurking threat of infection sits real...
Beyond that, two things creep to the forefront of your mind:
Water.
Food.
But first...
...
Blackness.
...
...
You wake once again, yet now to the feel of rain drops peppering your face.
So gently, yet with enough ferocity to clear the stains from your body.
You feel somewhat refreshed;
Better.
...
Rising up to one knee, lifting your head to the sky, you gape your mouth wide.
And as the heavensent liquid runs down the back of your throat...
You hurriedly unwrap your bad hand and hold it away, palm up.
The rain clears much of the filth from the wound.
...
Pulling a knife from your boot, you take care in cutting your remaining shirtsleeve away from your arm.
With your hand re-dressed, your focus turns again to finding food.
Yet, with one good hand and one good leg, your chances of hunting are ruined.
"Focus", you say to no one.
...
That notion suddenly shattered by a coarse reality
...
The sun is setting...
Dismissing the light, and giving shelter to the Faraday tigers.
No demon in hell as black and as real...
No hunter on earth so fierce and so deft.
...
Your precarious situation grows more dire with each passing thought...
An incapable body;
No shelter;
Inadequate weapons;
Certain death...
...
Certainly, the idea of being eaten alive drives your imagination.
You ponder doing things no sane man would ever do...
You accept your chances at survival, and decide on one answer to it all...
You lie down beaneath a still, moonless night...
To die.
...
Hours must pass in the cold, quiet dark.
The promise of a rising sun sheds light on the darkness in your mind.
Your wanton ears strain to hear the morning birds sing...
A song of sanctuary, and...
A song of second chances.
What you could do, you think, though body broken and mind scorched...
With one day...
One golden opportunity.
...
But, this great moment would never come...
The window of opportunity is slammed shut with such force --
The sound of shattered glass explodes from within.
Something is stalking, and something is coming...
And the sum of all fears paralyzes your core.
...
...
You curse inside your head, repeatedly, wrestling with the facts...
And for a moment, the noise of your psyche is lost to the sound of shuffling grass...
Footsteps...
Nearer...
Heavy breathing that is not your own.
...
You watch the beast wander cautiously toward your frozen body.
Little more than a harmless shadow, like death's silhouette.
Slowly, tortuously, it moves forward.
You watch it watching you...
And you can only wait for what is bound to happen.
...
A throated grunt sends chills up your spine.
The beast's hot breath grazes your skin, pinning you to the ground...
...
In this moment, familiar visions of things you remember most dear come before your eyes.
For an instant, the threat is gone, and the terrific grip on your mind is loosened.
And this is where you find yourself free...
To do anything...
...
To fight!
...
Before the tiger can react, your blade has met its mark between its ribs, puncturing the heart.
The big cat is as startled as it is mortally wounded, letting out a shrieking roar...
It snatches your head in its iron jaws, with its fore-paws bedded into your chest and shoulder.
The tiger quickly shifts its entire weight to its upper body and resets its bite...
You feel the flesh of your neck twist and tear in its violent mouth...
...
The animal shudders, and all effort ceases in its attack.
Still, it lumbers over your helpless frame, ever-threatening...
Even in death.
...
You feel a spring of warmth across your body,
Just as the beast staggers and falls limp, silent.
...
Its lifeless heft strewn across you...
Crushing,
Suffocating,
And killing you.
...
...
You heave, but every attempt becomes all the more futile.
All of your adrenaline spent...
Your conscious will to survive can no longer save you.
Your last few breaths are spent praying to the dawning sun...
And through your nose, you breathe in...
...
The mysterious smell of salvation.
A sulfurous odor rides the back of the breeze...
...
...
Its wings beat mightily against the wind,
The killer of killers has come,
And so brilliantly the sun reflects the irridescence of its skin...
An existence so unchained, so savage...
So revered that God himself created the sky only to behold their magnificence.
TBC...
You wake...
Your head is reeling.
Your body aches...
Slowly, your eyes crack open and the light pours in.
Your ears detect the sound of hooves trampling into the distance, trailed by fading wails of terror...
...
...
As you begin to come to, the smell of blood permeates your nostrils.
You can feel its viscous clench across your face, down your neck...
Then it hits you.
...
A thrashing pain from your left hand pulses up your arm and consumes your body.
Crushed? Severed? You dare not look...
...
Your curiosity peaks and you steadily lift your arm upward.
A quick moment of relief as all digits seem intact at first glance...
A moment immediately swallowed by a large, gaping hole where there was once solid flesh and bone.
Looking at it only enhances the pain...
But you force your eyes to assess the damage.
...
Minutes pass as you lie face up in the sun, gathering your senses.
The acute pain grows in intensity, and you can stand it no longer...
Pulling your brains together you assist yourself upward --
Tucking your right leg under your left, simultaneously lunging your bad arm across,
Your planted elbow heaves your sorry meat up from the earth.
...
The sheer magnitude of the pain throughout you forces unspoken words across your lips.
"Am I going to die here?"
No sooner had those words escaped your mind,
Immediately you are reassured in knowing that your heavy assault would've undoubtedly resulted in death...
If that were your assailant's intentions.
...
Up on one knee, with your impaled hand tucked in tight, you wobble to your feet.
Briefly.
Your right ankle seems to be broken or twisted, but it won't hold your weight.
Now, again, from two knees you shift your focus to your other foot and take a stand.
...
Unsteadily, you hobble to a nearby seat, catching your momentum as it tries to push your weak body over the side.
You look again at your hand.
Blackened.
Throbbing.
Soaked in red.
With your teeth, you pull your right arm from its sleeve and break the stitches at the seam.
...
Though the profuse bleeding has been stopped, the lurking threat of infection sits real...
Beyond that, two things creep to the forefront of your mind:
Water.
Food.
But first...
...
Blackness.
...
...
You wake once again, yet now to the feel of rain drops peppering your face.
So gently, yet with enough ferocity to clear the stains from your body.
You feel somewhat refreshed;
Better.
...
Rising up to one knee, lifting your head to the sky, you gape your mouth wide.
And as the heavensent liquid runs down the back of your throat...
You hurriedly unwrap your bad hand and hold it away, palm up.
The rain clears much of the filth from the wound.
...
Pulling a knife from your boot, you take care in cutting your remaining shirtsleeve away from your arm.
With your hand re-dressed, your focus turns again to finding food.
Yet, with one good hand and one good leg, your chances of hunting are ruined.
"Focus", you say to no one.
...
That notion suddenly shattered by a coarse reality
...
The sun is setting...
Dismissing the light, and giving shelter to the Faraday tigers.
No demon in hell as black and as real...
No hunter on earth so fierce and so deft.
...
Your precarious situation grows more dire with each passing thought...
An incapable body;
No shelter;
Inadequate weapons;
Certain death...
...
Certainly, the idea of being eaten alive drives your imagination.
You ponder doing things no sane man would ever do...
You accept your chances at survival, and decide on one answer to it all...
You lie down beaneath a still, moonless night...
To die.
...
Hours must pass in the cold, quiet dark.
The promise of a rising sun sheds light on the darkness in your mind.
Your wanton ears strain to hear the morning birds sing...
A song of sanctuary, and...
A song of second chances.
What you could do, you think, though body broken and mind scorched...
With one day...
One golden opportunity.
...
But, this great moment would never come...
The window of opportunity is slammed shut with such force --
The sound of shattered glass explodes from within.
Something is stalking, and something is coming...
And the sum of all fears paralyzes your core.
...
...
You curse inside your head, repeatedly, wrestling with the facts...
And for a moment, the noise of your psyche is lost to the sound of shuffling grass...
Footsteps...
Nearer...
Heavy breathing that is not your own.
...
You watch the beast wander cautiously toward your frozen body.
Little more than a harmless shadow, like death's silhouette.
Slowly, tortuously, it moves forward.
You watch it watching you...
And you can only wait for what is bound to happen.
...
A throated grunt sends chills up your spine.
The beast's hot breath grazes your skin, pinning you to the ground...
...
In this moment, familiar visions of things you remember most dear come before your eyes.
For an instant, the threat is gone, and the terrific grip on your mind is loosened.
And this is where you find yourself free...
To do anything...
...
To fight!
...
Before the tiger can react, your blade has met its mark between its ribs, puncturing the heart.
The big cat is as startled as it is mortally wounded, letting out a shrieking roar...
It snatches your head in its iron jaws, with its fore-paws bedded into your chest and shoulder.
The tiger quickly shifts its entire weight to its upper body and resets its bite...
You feel the flesh of your neck twist and tear in its violent mouth...
...
The animal shudders, and all effort ceases in its attack.
Still, it lumbers over your helpless frame, ever-threatening...
Even in death.
...
You feel a spring of warmth across your body,
Just as the beast staggers and falls limp, silent.
...
Its lifeless heft strewn across you...
Crushing,
Suffocating,
And killing you.
...
...
You heave, but every attempt becomes all the more futile.
All of your adrenaline spent...
Your conscious will to survive can no longer save you.
Your last few breaths are spent praying to the dawning sun...
And through your nose, you breathe in...
...
The mysterious smell of salvation.
A sulfurous odor rides the back of the breeze...
...
...
Its wings beat mightily against the wind,
The killer of killers has come,
And so brilliantly the sun reflects the irridescence of its skin...
An existence so unchained, so savage...
So revered that God himself created the sky only to behold their magnificence.
TBC...