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post #10 of (permalink) Old 05-22-13, 04:34 PM
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Default Time to hunt the men!

Time to hunt the men!

I awoke in a pit full of corpses. The smell of blood with its coppery fragrance blended with the bile and shit and filth of the dead. The decomposing bodies served the worms and maggots well as a feast of garish delights and the flies, oh god, the flies filled the pit so thickly that I could barely make sun-baked sky above. I do not know how I came to be here. Somehow I was among the dead and the thought, no the reality of the situation caused me to tremble with unimagined terror. Worms wriggled through my cloths and hair. They were in my eyes and ears and in my butt crack, probably had been pushing there way into my anis as well. They were in my mouth and nose too. I turned my head and vomited atop the back of a dead woman expelling the maggots out along with several worms and other contents of my stomach. The vomit spread along her ripped spine and flesh and ran down her sides until it spilled down onto two other bodies stacked below her. Fighting hard to gain my freedom I pushed off a young boy from my chest and slid out from under a man who had been ripped apart. I struggled in the closed space to stand and put out my hand to brace myself upon the bloody walls of the pit. The top of the pit was within easy reach so I put my hands up along the ledge and fought with all the strength I had to escape.

For miles around there was nothing to see save the trees of a vast forest and the sky above. Animal tracks were all around the area, deep and large. Something had been here recently and I was sure that I did not want to be here when it came back. The smell of the pit wafted out and caused me to vomit again. I shuttered when I realized that I smelled like the pit or rather like the dead that I had been entombed with. The worms and maggots were still wriggling upon my flesh and perhaps within my flesh as well. I hated the feeling, the thought that while I was still living the tools of death were consuming my flesh so I pulled off my blood stained clothes and threw them back into the pit, better to walk through the forest naked then corrupted by death’s handmaids in decomposition.

At once I began to run from the pit and into the shadows of the forest. My military training had taught me well how to live off the land and how to fight through pain and fatigue and I depended upon that training as I ran. I knew that the first thing I had to do was find water then food. It could not be reverse. I had to get clean, get the scent of death off of me. Whatever had put me into the pit would surely return again to consume me or part of me at least. It would know within moments that I was gone and within minutes would know of which direction I had made my escape. Within minutes from its discovery it would be moving to overtake me and it would surely find me alone naked and unarmed. I would be weak and helpless in my current state, an easy mark for the taking. I dared not be caught in that state of affairs. I ran for what felt like hours before finding a brook. Fifty yards out from the stream I stopped and surveyed the area. I listened and watched closely to be sure that I was alone before going down to drink. In the reflection from the water’s surface I saw the state of my body. I was filthy, covered in blood and shit and the scraps of flesh from other people. I was awestruck and could barely breathe. I washed my hands and face and let the current pull the detritus away before putting the water to my mouth. I dipped my hands into the water and brought it to my moth and drank deeply and long. I dared not put my face into the water. I could be taken unprepared and by surprise if something came upon me.

After drinking I plunged into the water. The brook was not deep so I laid down as if I was in a bath and scrubbed the filth of the dead away with the mud from the bank. Then I rolled in the mud and covered all exposed skin. The mud would accomplish two things for me; camouflage and an extra layer against the cold. I searched for a sharp rock and after a few minutes managed to find one. It was long so I broke it upon another and then crafted it to a long thick branch with a vine I had pulled from the base of a tree. With spear in hand I pushed myself back into the mud and became part of the environment and set myself to wait.

I did not have to wait long before it came for me. Upon seeing it across from me on the opposite bank I remembered with all clarity what and why I had come to be here. I was betrayed by my pears and left for dead after the battle. Such treachery! Maybe I had not been betrayed as such with malicious intent. It could be that my brothers thought that I had been killed in the fighting. I did not care. I was bitter against them for leaving me and if I survived the next few minutes I hunt them and kill them for how they had buried me, there with my enemies in a pit full of corruption.

The beast lumbered into the water sniffing and braying. It was large and hairy. It was a bare of sorts with a large head and dull eyes. It stalked forth with cruel intent. It was hunting for me but had lost my scent. As it came close I ejaculated from the mud and plunged the spear into its throat. It struck me at the same time and I fell back and away from it but my strike had been sure and accurate. It fell there in the water and died, blood flowing in the water’s current. I had survived the beast, now it was time to hunt the men.

1,084 words

A good reputation take a long time to build, but only a moment to destroy. Wow, that's deep! Check out the H.O.E.S. short story competition.
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