I made it back to the shrine. But I wasn't even able to let out a sigh of relief as I instantly crumbled to the floor.
My leg began to spasm uncontrollably. A strange, half-groan, half-laugh spilled from my mouth like a hateful miasma. I wanted to scream, shout, curse, and rage. Yet I could do nothing.
I realize now what a diminutive existence I live.
A sewer rat like me has no business living in the sun. Those who walk bright, sunny lives have no business with the living rot.
The living rot… We're living, yet we're rotting away at the same time. Eating away at ourselves in our hunger.
My mind was sinking. The despair, fear, pain, and uncertainty ate away at me. I recalled the faces of my loved ones, friends, family…
Aika…
My breaths ran shallow as my body cooled, and the perspiration evaporated into the musty air.
++++++
I'd fallen asleep again.
As I lay there, half dazed, a strange, yet pivotal thought hit me. I hadn't had a single bowel movement since I arrived here.
Gross as it may be, it was extremely vital for gauging one's health. It also drove home that this famine could send me back to the grave soon. I had to eat…
Soon.
There's a certain point of starvation where eating could become toxic—downright deadly—for your health.
But it was too late to scavenge now; the sun was already down, plus my legs were killing me.
Yet, even so, something compelled me to ignore the burning pain and crippling weakness in my legs and stand up. I felt like if I just lay there, my despair would glue me to the floor and I'd never get back up. And so, I walked carefully down the steps, ensuring my legs didn't give out from under me.
My legs were weak and shook ever so slightly. Yet, the more I climbed down, the easier it got for my legs. Like a shell around my legs had cracked and fallen off.
The same could not be said for the rest of my body.
For some odd, inexplicable reason, as I descended each step, it was like I was sinking into a cold, suffocating swamp. My vision became increasingly hazy, and the air grew thick and foul-smelling.
Those thoughts were wiped from my mind as soon as I reached the final step and lifted my downcast eyes.
The sight that lay before me, when I finally climbed down those steps, instilled in me both awe and envy.
Beyond the shadow, people were talking, cheering, and men wearing strange outfits talked over beer. Women sat elegantly next to one another, gossiping and drinking. Some men and women grew so inebriated that they had to cling to their friends for support while walking down the cobblestone paths.
Something tickled my heart.
It felt like they were mocking me.
My eyes grew downcast, and my feet were just a few inches away from the light emitted from the shops. Just a few feet away from the hustle and bustle, the happiness and joy. The festivities and feasts.
"Haa…"
I didn't dare to take a step forward. Instead, I stared at them with spite in my eyes.
Hateful that they were happy.
Indignant that they weren't sad and hungry.
They didn't spare me a glance. As if they didn't see me, couldn't see me, like I didn't exist.
And finally, the sun set from the horizon, plunging me into a complete shadow of darkness.
As if the setting sun signaled the end of a performance, a strange calm descended from the heavens
A soothing, calm melody flooded the streets of Droswen. Her voice was gentle, soothing, yet agonizing. And at the same time, a bomb went off in my head.
My head pounded, throbbed, and screamed.
I clutched it, as if I were trying to keep my skull from falling apart—to keep my brains from spilling out.
I lost my balance, falling backward onto the steps of the shrine.
And just like that, the pain was gone. The singing had ceased.
In an instant.
I looked around to see if there were others in agony as I was mere moments ago. However, instead of seeing what I had expected, people writhing on the floor, clutching their heads as I did, all I saw was obedience.
Obedience to her.
The men and women set down their cups and shut their mouths. Their eyes glazed over. Suddenly, in unison, they stood up and began cleaning up.
They hobbled about, like robots.
A man who'd been too sloshed to even walk in a straight line was now helping a completely unrelated person throw away their trash.
Suddenly, from the corner of my vision, one of them made eye contact with me. It was a woman, a waiter, who had been happily serving customers mere moments prior.
Her happy, custodial smile was erased.
Replaced by a vacant stare.
Her eyes were deep and dark like a black hole.
Too dark.
Gulp.
The saliva ran thick down my throat.
She took a step toward me.
And I took a step back, praying that she wasn't coming for me.
But then, she took one more, then two, then three.
More steps than I could respond in kind—faster than I could respond in kind.
She began running.
And so did I.
Past the sign reading Ygros and up the shabby, neglected stairs.
My feet thundered against the stone, legs burning.
From behind, I could hear it screaming—as if it was in pain.
But I pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind.
I was too focused on running, too focused on keeping my wayward, weary feet from crossing and tripping.
"Hahh—! Hahh—! Huek—!"
I practically fell into the shrine, sweat pouring down my back in sheets. My legs barely held up. My lungs felt shredded, like they'd been wrung dry.
I dove into a pile of old boxes and crates, contorting my body behind them like a mouse squeezing into a crack. Making sure not a limb, not a toe, not a strand of hair, was visible.
Drag
Step
Drag
Step.
My body seized. I clasped both hands over my mouth, breath frozen in my throat.
The sound was… wrong.
Wet.
Bare feet slapping against wood.
She hadn't been barefoot earlier, had she?
The sound of something dragging followed.
What the fuck is that?
I didn't dare peek.
"Uhk…"
A hiccup—or a choked sob—rose up and caught in my throat. My body screamed for air. Every nerve fired off warning flares.
But I didn't move.
I didn't breathe.
Not fully. Only shallow, staggered sips of air through my nose.
I hid in that spot for god knows how long.
A minute? An hour? Two hours?
My mind was getting foggy from the lack of oxygen. My body craved more air. More air than these shallow sips gave.
But the fear suffocated me, restricting me.
Crossing my lungs, restricting my diaphragm, clamping my mouth shut.
My vision blurred.
My fingers tingled.
My ears rang from the blood pounding through them.
Please.
Please, leave.
Please, gods, demons, anything—just take her away.
I begged.
I begged to whatever god, deity, higher being there was.
Praying, pleading for this nightmare to end.
...
I've been begging ever since I entered this damned world.
Step
Drag
Step
Luckily, my silent pleas were answered this time. And a few seconds later, the steps were gone.
Still, I sat still, unmoving, unbreathing.
Until finally, I felt as though an adequate amount of time had passed.
"Haaa…"
I finally let out a breath, trembling as the tight grip on my face loosened.
I felt my lungs expand and fill.
To take in the life-giving air.
To feel the fog in my mind finally lift.
Air had never tasted so sweet.
But even then, I sat still in my spot for around an hour, until a twinge in my bladder reminded me I couldn't stay in there forever.
My fingers gripped the edge of the crate as I pulled myself forward.
The shrine floor was dim, shadows long, the air thick with mildew.
But what I saw—
Was a trail.
A trail of blood.
It curled across the floorboards like a macabre river.
Thin at first, then thicker, snaking in unnatural patterns.
Like something had dragged it.
What the hell?
I was in a den full of monsters dressed in the guise of humans.
++++++
That night, I slept in that pile of boxes.
And when I awoke, the trail of blood was gone. As if everything last night was a figment of my imagination.
Maybe if I hadn't woken up behind those boxes, I would've truly believed last night was a dream. A horrible nightmare.
I had first thought that the world I had found myself in, although strange, still followed the basic laws and principles of my previous world. But clearly something supernatural was at play.
A shudder shot up my spine.
What if this were a grim-dark world? Where every path was laced with suffering and eldritch horrors?
I took a sip of water from the basin to quell both my thirst and my worries.
Growl.
Luckily, the pain of an empty stomach knocked those worries right out of my head.
And so I sat up and walked down, trying my best to ignore the aching in my legs.
Yet, as I passed the sign reading "Ygros," a thought popped into my mind.
Are gods real in this world?
Thinking back, the agonizing singing did cease the moment I touched the steps of this shrine. And when the lady—no—monster stepped into the shrine, it began screaming in pain. And judging from the blood left behind, it could've been injured.
A sense of unease welled from inside me.
The thought of having something or someone have complete omniscience and omnipotence over my life was a harrowing thought.
I'm living by their whims, like a puppet on strings.
"Blrghghrgh." I shook my head violently, warding off the negative thoughts.
For now, I just need to survive. The existential dread could wait for later.
And so, I passed the sign without so much as a second thought.
++++++
Now that I was walking down the streets... I realized I'd made a slight error.
What am I to do?
My legs were so battered and sore that I'd have no shot at running away from a food vendor again.
I couldn't help but think: Am I fated to just starve to death?
I wanted to laugh.
Someone like me?
Suddenly, I spot something from the corner of my eye.
A stick.
Just lying there on the neglected stone floors. It looked quite sturdy. I doubt I could break it even if I used all my might.
gulp
I bent over, grabbing the stick and rubbing it in my hands. I stared longingly, as if entranced. The hunger was taking a toll on my brain.
I recall 2 days ago, or perhaps it was yesterday, when those thieves stole my potato.
ting
The pendant around my neck shook as if chastising my thoughts.
No...
I can't do it...
I can't even run away from a slightly obese, sedentary shopkeeper. What makes me think I can beat down a group of kids—oh my god...
I crouched down, holding my head in my arms.
"What the hell is wrong with you, Kaito?" I spat.
Thinking about beating down children? The hunger must be draining all the IQ from my brain...
I don't think I've ever starved this much in my life. I did diet from time to time, but I didn't starve myself for a whole day. And certainly not for 4 days.
Anyways, I needed a better plan—one that wouldn't jeopardize my humanity...
++++++
____________
[########]
|Dumpster|
di
vi
ng
Less than graceful, I will not lie.
Clink
Clack
However, right now, it seems to be my last hope.
Clack
Crash
"Fuck!" A curse involuntarily slips free from my mouth as a half-empty beer bottle crashes to the floor, crumbling gracelessly into a thousand pieces.
I've been at this for around an hour now. Nothing.
I feel strangely irritated.
Back in my old world, I'd often read articles criticizing businesses, small and big alike, throwing out bags upon bags of fresh food.
However, such wastefulness doesn't apply to this town.
My theory is that people just eat what they don't sell. No food goes to waste.
Or they're too selfish to give people like me a bone.
Anyways, good for the environment, in theory, but horrible news for me.
Where's a multi-million dollar convenience store chain when you need one?
Crack
"No..."
A worn-out boot.
Clack
Picking through the heap of foul-smelling trash in search of anything remotely edible, I couldn't help but take a moment to reflect upon my life.
"No... Not that either..."
An unidentifiable rag.
Fwap
Strange, unidentifiable liquids clung to my sodden hands.
"No—is that? Ew!"
A used condom.
Splat
Suddenly, I've begun to hope those unidentifiable liquids weren't jizz.
"Haa..." With the sigh of a beaten man, I fought the urge to collapse, and I moved on to the next trash heap.
Luckily, with enough time, my efforts bore fruit, though I wasn't sure how to feel about it.
"This... Can I even eat this?"
In my hands sat a misshapen, stiff brown hunk of bread. Pale white fuzzy tendrils of mold crept from the surface like hairs. It vaguely smelled of rot, but wasn't overpowering.
Growl.
Beggars can't be choosers, and it doesn't seem like I have much of a choice. It's do or die.
After wiping the fuzz and goop off the bread, I brought it to my lips, gagging before it even touched my tongue. It reeked of wet socks left in a damp space. Sour with an earthy rot that stung my nose.
And thus, I took my first bite.
The first bite didn't crunch like I thought it would.
No, it cracked and spilled.
The texture was all wrong. Tough on the outside, and mushy on the inside. It was spongy, in a way that made my teeth recoil. And the mold, oh god.
It has a taste.
It was bitter and powdery, and the texture was akin to dust scraped from an neglected attic. It clung to my throat, sticky and dry.
I swallowed hard, trying my best to ignore the taste, the smell, and the texture.
I bit at it again. Chewing faster. I could feel it swell a little as it eagerly soaked up my saliva, expanding and turning even more repulsive.
By the time I forced the last bite down, I was acutely aware of the mass sitting in my stomach.
A sensation I had never given a second thought to before.
I felt the urge to vomit, the bile creeping up my esophagus. But I forced it back down.
With heavy steps, I began heading toward home, utterly drained.
This is what I've been reduced to?
I couldn't help but lament and wallow in self-pity.
++++++
Oh, how I wish my days could stay languid and uneventful.
As I was walking home, I had the displeasure of bumping shoulders with some familiar faces.
In the depths of this destitute alley—where I thought I'd be alone—I found three other kids.
One of them had a crude bandana wrapped loosely over his head.
They were the bastards who stole my potato.
A heat welled up from inside my resentful guts.
If it weren't for them, I wouldn't have been so desperate as to have eaten that piece of moldy bread.
And yet, despite my broiling indignation, I held my head down low. And picked up my pace ever so slightly.
They were sitting on a couple of crates, idling, chattering about nothing remarkable.
I was making headway. I was just about to pass them when the heavens decided to slap me down for my hubris.
"Yo! Holy shit! Is that them?!" I hear one of them yell.
It was a familiar, grating, agitating voice. It belonged to none other than the head honcho, the boy in the bandana.
I didn't bother to stop; instead, I sped up.
I should have run, but instead I power walked. Like a fool.
I felt something abruptly tug me on the back of my collar as I lost my balance. I regained it, luckily, but I've been cornered.
The bandana kids lackeys have all but surrounded me. Leaving me trapped like a rat.
I cursed at myself for taking this path, a path I had never taken before, a path that I assumed would lead me home.
"Sniff sniif. Yikes!" The bandana boy said, pinching his nose. "She smells like shit!"
Despite his remarks, his eyes gleamed like a kid who found a new toy to play with.
Clearly, they were starved for entertainment.
I felt my jaw clench.
I should've taken up that stick after all.
[CH END]
(Author notes: I worked hard creating that dumpster. Only to watch it get fucked up when I copy and paste it. I hope it looks like one. Also, I'll try to keep my chapter 2,500+ words long.)