DELIVERANCE [ KANTO | INV | FLASHBACK | TRIGGER ]
posted Oct 10, 2018 14:32:01 GMT
persephone amavi likes this
.FIFTEEN YEARS AGO
fury erupts from a set of lungs too small to stomach the acute change in elevation. each breath comes out labored but fernando doesn't have a choice. he heaves with every fibre of his being. anything to survive, to persist, to make it beyond this shit hole. there's no way in hell he'll resign himself to expiring in the wilderness.but his body doesn't follow. it can't keep up. not when fatigue continues to wear at him. it's a miracle he's come this far, a show of grit that supersedes the limits of flesh. every struggle brings him closer to the edge. his eyes feel heavy.
another scream. anything to keep him conscious. but this time it's no call to rally, to defy his fate. it's to cry, breaking down into a series of sobs. wet tears speak a story of anguish but the abrupt gushing is one of relief. he is but a boy, a child, forced to take his first life.
make no mistake. there wails are not of remorse nor sympathy for the felled beast. they're selfish, for himself. all in a desperation to survive.
i don't want to die.
the usaring has been subjugated. a spill or organs and meat oozes from a well placed cleft on its skull. a bloodied rock rests not too far down the trail, displaced by the sudden collaspe of the bumbling best. fernando is the same, flung from his head and left crumpled to the floor. he can't feel his legs.
to those that dare answer the bloodcurdling howl of battle, they'll find a boy well on his way to becoming food. the skirmish has left fernando crippled, claw marks rampant across hemorrhaging body. the white of his bone protrudes from open flesh and the sight of dirt spinkling the raw pink is enough to make observers nausea. the predator may have been slain but in this condition, he looks like nothing more than a discarded snack.
but at least he lives.
the crying never stops. but it doesn't impede him. it pushes him forward. to struggle. to persist. to live. one hand goes forward and what's left of his strength is used to drag himself forward. his ascent on mount silver will end here but his resolve is absolute.
a half dead boy continues to crawl.
the strings of fate sing a beautiful eulogy. tenacity strings it out of tune. each thread unravels, broken, split.
the lyre is a liar.
i will not die.