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Parent: CL Literature 2.0

  1. #631162013-08-30 19:34:10 *Transpose said:
    Some old short story I wrote out of boredom. It has no name. n_n (Formatting is kind of messed up, but oh well. :P)

    He awoke to complete darkness. Breathing heavily, he frantically tried to rise to his feet only to
    be greeted by an intense pain in his legs. He could not stand. His legs were broken. A strong
    sense of terror came over him, bringing with it countless questions never to be awnsered.
    "Why is this happening? Why am I here?!", he shrieked into the hollow blackness.
    Although his screams were loud, his voice carried no echo.

    Broken legs or not, he had to find his way out of the dark room. Using the strength left in his arms to crawl around, he begun his search for the exit. He set off in a straight line with the hopes of reaching a wall. Walls lead to doors, and doors lead to freedom. Crawling for what seemed like hours, the man began to wonder how big his prison might be. Had he picked the wrong direction? Was his exit but a mere yard from where he began? He shook the thoughts out of his head. "You've already come this far, you can't quit now." He said. "This place can't go on forever." He commenced his slow crawl once again.

    Having no sense of time, the man had no way of knowing how long he had actually been crawling for. For the life of him, he could not recall how long it had been. He felt as if he had been dragging his surely dead legs for ages, yet at the same time it felt as if but a few minutes had passed. At times a gust of ice-cold wind would rush over him for a second or two at best. This didn't happen often, but it always seemed as if the same amount of time had passed between each visit. He used them to determine how long he had been crawling. So far he was up to 127 visits.

    Gradually the texture of the floor began to change. This sparked some hope in the recent paraplegic.He was finally getting somewhere. What started as a smooth marble like surface had now become rough and uneven, only getting worse as he proceeded. As the ground became more and more warped, the ghostly visits became more frequent. He must be nearing an opening, where else would these frozen travelers be coming from?

    He grew tired, and cold. The quick breezes of frozen air were coming in what now seemed
    like, (he could only assume), 5 minute intervals. To make matters worse, he had developed quite the stomach ache due to lack of food. He had not encountered another man, creature, or object throughout his entire journey in the endless chamber. It would not be long before he met his end to starvation.

    In an effort to keep himself sane, he had started speaking to his hands. His left hand was named Joseph. A very loquacious hand, Joseph always kept the man in good conversation. His right hand was named Marcus. A joker at heart, Marcus was always trying to add a little levity to the situation. "You know it could be worse, right?" He would say.
    "We could have ended up as french speaking hands, then where would you be?"
    The appendage would burst into shrill laughter, while the man never joined in. Instead he would scold his hand and remind him that it wasn't a laughing matter. The three continued on, and while one kept the man's attention, the other would pull them forward.

    The air had become so completely cold, and the man had last almost every ounce of his strength. He was exhausted, and on the brink of starvation. It was then, while Joseph carried them forward, that Marcus decided to make another one of his terribly funny jokes.
    "Those legs of yours; all they do is hold you back." He sneered.
    "Why not remove them? We'd make way better time." At this the man could not help but wonder. Why hadn't he thought of it before? He could eat his legs and kill two birds with one stone. Not only would he save himself from starvation, but he would be able to traverse his wasteland at a much more solid pace. It seemed the next course of action was obvious.

    The first bite was the worst, but once they got past the fleshy-dead taste it actually wasn't all that bad. The man and Marcus consumed his legs while Joseph, the left, could only watch in horror. It did not hurt the man to eat his legs, for the nerve endings had long since died. Besides, he was pretty hungry. When he had eaten his leg up to the knee, Marcus urged him to stop. "You've got a long journey ahead of you. Better not eat them all at once."