I would like to start off with saying that this story starts, like many others. There is the protagonist, a young man of a mere twenty one years. His name is complicated and difficult to understand in most situations so for the sake of the story we shall call him Ryan, Ryan Kent. He shall undergo a journey that not only will change him as a person, but which will also change him as a human. Literally.
Now Ryan is not like most, but certainly not the only one of his kind. Ryan is a human, a human with an disturbingly powerful apathy. As it is, the man known as Ryan is the kind who would watch the world pass him by with little to no thought of it. It should be pointed out however that this man wished to change. Why many would ask? If one truly are not affected by the world and it's constant changes and turns, why strive to be? Well, the answer is simple, if you feel little to nothing do you not crave more?
The man wanted to feel, because life offered little and his very existence was losing it's appeal. When nothing entertains you and life feels more empty than anything else, why keep the light of life?
Well this man kept going for his own reasons. He had a philosophy you see. When one ask what the meaning of life is, one normally gets a number of different answers. Ryan believed that there is no one meaning of life, more like a meaning of your own life. What is the meaning of your life, is the question he would have asked. His answer? To live for the few moments in his life that would bring about true happiness, sadness or any strong emotion in him. Naming the moments "The golden nuggets of life" he pushed on through what others in his state of mind would probably simply forsake as an unnecessary complication.
Ah but it seems as we've been thrown into a tangent. Let the story commence. See how the man known as Ryan Kent went from being the emotionally detached man he once was to becoming the loving and caring being that we know him to be.
*Ahem* ... It all started on a cold winter night in January ...
~▲~
*Groan*... So here we are again. It’s 5 am in the morning and I have not slept a wink. Again. It has become a normality for me I’ll admit. These past 3 days I've slept 4 hours and I got little to no energy left. Does my body care? Nope, not as far as I can see.
Dead ass tired as I am it helps little when my body seems to not grasp the concept of ‘falling asleep’. So tired am I that I can’t even function while doing my favorite pass time. That is, escaping from reality through games. Doesn't really work when you fall asleep on the keyboard does it? No. No it doesn't. The moment I go to bed to pass away into blissful unconsciousness though? Nah, then we’re not going to fall asleep, nooo! That would be too easy.
I groan once more in exaggeration as I roll of bed. One would think that I would be fed up with this by now. Then again, go for 6 years with this condition and have doctors constantly tell you nothing is wrong and it’s your own fault for using the computer or whatnot before bed and you stop caring at a point.
Not that I care much for anything these days. It seems that the more time goes on and the more life advances, the less life itself affects me.
Finding myself rolling around on the floor in pitch black I shakily get myself up on my feet and stumble towards the light switch. The embodiment of grace you say? Why, thank you I answer before shooting off a sarcastic remark about your incurable blindness and lack of wit.
What? I’m grumpy in the mornings. One of the few times you will actually see real emotions from the likes of me, not the overly exaggerated and blatantly fake social interactions that is the norm. The scary part though? It’s the fact that people don’t get it. They don’t see the easily discernible falseness that is my smiles and laughter. Geez, how hard can it be? That laughter was too loud, that smile just a tad too wide.
I swear, sometimes I think people just accept what they see as facts because they can’t deal with what’s really going on. Maybe that’s for the better though? I mean, If everybody just accepted everyone else because they couldn't deal with the stress of different points of view maybe we would see a lasting peace? Heh, now that’s a naive thought if I ever had one.
*Sigh*... After finding the light switch I drag my worthless sack of flesh over to the shower to get the edge of the tiredness out of my bones. Lessee... there’s the water knob alright. Now let’s get some heat going!
Aah, shower’s. If there was ever anything I would be able to actually and truly love in this existence we are in then it would be showers. I mean, what is there not to love? You get clean, warm and have an excuse to both sing and philosophize all in one place! It’s perfeaaaaaaargh! Fa**! That’s cold... Leave it up to my sleep deprived mind to forget to actually let the water heat up before jumping headfirst into the stream of icicle death.
As I let the water get to bearable temperatures I rub my knee which got profoundly god smacked into the shower wall after my close encounter with the Lord of frost himself. One of these days I’m probably going to break my neck in this shower, considering this happens every. Damn. Morning.
This is one of those things that would annoy me to no end i guess. Then again, it didn't. It was routine. Something I had gotten used to.I also had a knack for stubbing my toe into my bedroom door every time I entered or left it. Hurt like all hells but I never cared enough to learn from it.
I would entertain the thought of it being some kind of subconscious self destructive desire or the like. I do however find it very unlikely since not only do I not care enough about myself to be self destructive but what little I do think off myself is all positive things.
Well now, enough pointless musings. It’s time for me to get myself the best conceivable start on a day a person can get. A cup. Of glorious. Delicious. Holy. Astounding. Joe. That’s right people. A cup’o’Joe. Coffee. The Black liquid Gold. The God’s water. The powder of night! and so and so forth. Point is! I get to wake up, a bit at the very least. Hm, makes me think of a very good saying I once heard. You are never sleepy! Just coffee thirsty!
*Sluurp* Aah. Wise words indeed.
Now, lessee what’s the clock? Oh crap, late again.
The time is 7:30 Am and the bus leaves my stop less than a minute from then. You might ask, how in all hells did you manage to use two and a half hours on a shower and making a cup of freaking Joe? Well, I say in my defense. First off the light switch is a bitch to find. Secondly, I’m not the type to take a shower of five minutes and be on my way. No sir! I am a man of love for the running water! Yessire! I use the entire water tank when I shower. What? I like showers...
Oh! And thirdly, the cup of Joe is made from about a cup of water and 15 spoons of the blackest coffee powder you can find in the shady back corner of that one creepy Asian store in the alleyway. So my poor coffee maker gotta trudge through that too, and then it’s gotta cool down and so on and so forth. Did I also mention that time never seems to be my pal?
So yeah, I run headfirst out the door, completely forgetting both locking the door and my school bag. Also forgetting to change out of my bathrobe. Needless to say, I run back in and out a few times before I actually get my ass going.
... I missed the bus ... Again.
Muttering to myself I headed towards school the usual way. By foot. I don't mind The walk, actually I prefer it. It's a forty minute walk, and a beautiful walk at that. Normally I actually walk to school, but I refrain from doing so at winter time. Considering the fact that It's normally ranging between -10 to -30 Celsius at The coldest months. This was one of The colder days.
Lighting up a smoke I grab my gloves from my school bag and put them on, not wanting to get frostbite from fulfilling my need for the death stick. The ironic part about smoking is the fact that I'm not really all that fond of the feeling I get when I smoke it. It's more about the philosophical aspect of the ritual. As in, the philosophical mood I get in when I do smoke. My most intriguing thoughts and musings comes around when I'm smoking. I get all deep and stuff. Funny how dragging down a poison can get you thinking about the big things in life huh?
Stopping by a coffee shop on the way I buy myself another cup'o'Joe and move on wards to the school. It's a tradition really, on the cold days I buy coffee and on the hotter spring days and in summer time it goes in energy drinks from the local store on the way. Passing the cathedral that is the halfway point to my school I nod my head along to the music on my phone. I think the reason I can actually manage the walk to and from school on the cold winter days is thanks to the music. It makes it easy to forget the numbing cold and shivering winds that is typical of the city I live in.
I think I should point out a few things about me while I'm doing this internal monologue. For one, I got Attention-Deficit Disorder, commonly known as ADD. What that entails is many things but I guess the most prominent feature of it is the fact that I tend to disappear into my own thoughts. I can literally zone out everything around me and become "dead to the world". Now I also stress the fact that this is in no way done on purpose, nor can I do it at will. Creating a scenario which will make this happen however is easy enough. Simply put me in a situation where nothing that interests me happens and you will see my eyes unfocus and it's safe to say that I'm gone.
Secondly is the fact that I'm stubborn, to a fault. An example of my stubbornness is when I'm in a discussion. It can be about anything really, but the case most often than not is that I will stubbornly stick to my point of view even when proved wrong. I will argue it's point until I am blue. Why? Even I do not know. However I think it lies with the feeling of hating to be wrong. I would like to stress though, that as soon as the discussion is over with and the situation is done I change my view on a dime and learn from it. Efficiently changing my perception of the world to fit the information I have gained from the experience. It's dumb to be frank. There is no reason why I should be so stubborn about it when I know I'm wrong but I would guess it's an underlying desire to not show weakness in the face of confrontation. Yet another example of a fault that lies in the species that we know as humans.
If there ever were something I would be able to hate it would be humans. I do not have enough. Excuse the expression. Fucks to give to actually hate something, but if I did it would be humans. We are hypocritical, selfish, conflict seeking lumps of hate. And we know it. The worst part? I am one of them. Not only that, but I'm just like them. Getting fed up with humans is also a disturbingly human trait. However, I would like to point out that I don't dislike all humans. Far from it, time and time again I see examples of what I would personally say is the aspect of what humans should be. I strive to become that. To become a truly "good" person. I guess most would call such things naive, and I would be foremost among those who do. It does not change the fact that I want to become that kind of person.
Ah! School. The center of knowledge and social interaction of intellectual development. In my petty teenage years I used to hate school. It was boring and full of useless information I felt I didn't need. Of course, that was back then. Now? I really appreciate school. It's a place where I can continue the eternal fight against ignorance. I would say that my strongest emotion would be curiosity. While it does not burn in me as it is wont to do with most, it is the strongest drive I have to be spurred into action. The constant nagging thoughts that say; "But what if you need to know that one day?" "What if that information one day could prove invaluable?", "What if knowing that one day saves your life?"
In the end I truly do doubt that knowing the proper way to analyse a poem from the 1800’s is gonna save my life, but it’s a nice little piece of info to have tucked away in my little gray. Same with science studies, geography and English and... Heh, needless to say I find random information to be a good thing to have. Moving on!
It’s a Wednesday so it’s an early start for me. History is the class I start off with, one of my favorite courses actually. Being that I’m one of those who mean you gotta know your past and learn from it to progress. That being said, our teacher is a swell guy. Really the kind who wants us to learn and such. Only problem he has is the fact that he has a really monotone voice. Like, the kind that just seems to disappear into the background no matter how hard you try to listen to it. Combine that with my ever present ADD and I think you can guess the result. If you guessed one Ryan sitting with glossed over eyes staring vacantly into space, slightly drooling of off the side of his mouth than you are absolutely correct! Good on you.
History class was over before I knew what had happened. Funny that, History always seems to just pass on by too fast for me to realize it and I always leave the classroom feeling like I never learned anything. Hmm.
Next up we got the local language classes. Aah, learning to analyse and dictate poems and the like. One of the things that actually surprised me with this class was that not only did we learn about the structural foundations of sentences and such but we also learned to critically critique works of art and how to express said critique through a form of expression to solidify our views and feelings.
Ah, but it seems I ramble. To be fair nothing really interesting happens in school so there seems to be little point in telling you all this. Why do I seem to be talking to myself you ask? I honestly don’t know, a habit I picked up from my younger years I guess. My childhood story is bland and typical so I shan't bore you with details but I’ll point out that I was a target for all who wanted to dish out some frustration. It should give you a vague idea what it was like. Nothing important, nor anything new.
What is interesting about it I would guess should be what it resulted in. It has made me a very thick skinned individual. Some would say too thick skinned. My psychologist would say “A self induced neutrality to self interest that is both unhealthy and self destructive!”. I dropped him after he made the great diagnosis of calling me a schizophrenic. So what if I heard people calling my name as I went to sleep. Doesn't mean I hear voices. Not at all. It’s been a long while since it happened last time anyway. I think I’m running on two years without it now? Something along those lines at least.
With local language classes over and done with I head outside for a smoke break and to strike up a conversation with one of the classmates I've gotten to know over the period I've been going to the course. Lighting up my cigarette I nod towards her, slightly curving my left eyebrow upwards in acknowledgement.
“Damn long classes huh?” I mutter out while putting on a sigh.
“Yeah, I was ‘this’ far from falling asleep”. She answer while holding two fingers close to each other simulating a form of measurement, simultaneously taking a drag of her own cigarette.
“Glad to be free from that stuffy classroom for a while”. I groan as I pop my back by stretching.
"Mhm." Was her simple answer while shrugging her shoulders in a agreeing sort of way.
We stood in relative silence while we continued our self destructive ritual of poisonous inhalation. It really was biting cold. It didn't help much that I had decided to wear my thin leather jacket today. Not the brightest of ideas I know, but I was fond of it and in spite of sounding like a fashion diva. I pull it off, marvelously. I'm not entirely stupid though and had the common sense to put on extra layers underneath. Consisting of a wool undershirt with a typical band t-shirt and a simple gray sweater. My legs were dressed in a similar matter with dark blue jeans with a light wash and wool under leggings underneath those. On my feet I wore a pair of black socks, with gray wool socks over those and some simple black "boot style" shoes that ended at the ankles.
Put simply? I looked good, while still being protected from the cold. Or, you know. Would have been hadn't it been for the fact that it was incredibly cold today. Geez, my nose felt like it would fall off and my fingers where numb to the bone. Ah, the joys of living in the cold north. I hate the cold. Knowing that, it would seem dumb for most that when I moved from my hometown I moved further north. Still, I appreciate this cold city. The people are friendly, the party scene is great and diverse and there’s always something to do if you have the need for it.
Next course was math which consisted of me idly browsing the net of my netboard while looking up at the blackboard once in a while to see if there was something going on that I didn't already know. I should point out that I'm currently attending a private high school. After dropping out of high school, twice. I finally found myself in a situation where attending school was a blessing, rather than a curse. Not only is this school consisting of only students interested in learning, it's also filled with great teachers who really wants you to learn. Not just earn a paycheck.
Finishing up math at 2 pm I headed out of school and to the local store, to get myself another package of smokes. With only four left in my old pack it seemed fairly likely I would run out before I had the chance to go to a store again. I would not go on an idle shopping trip without other reasons in a cold like this. No way no how. It's all about self preservation and such. Or, at the very least it's about comfort. I enjoy comfort. Walking twenty minutes in biting cold is not my idea of a comfortable situation.
With my new package in my pocket and the school day over with I head home wards. Taking the bus I come home relatively fast and I slip on some comfortable jogging pants and my bathrobe to feel as unconstricted as possible while still being kept warm. I boot up my computer and the rest of the day goes by in a blur of gaming and making music.
Did I mention I do music? Well I do. Not that I'm much of a decent musician yet, but I'm getting there. The plan was to enroll music courses after getting the normal classes out of the way. I was aiming to become a vocal coach. Being a role model for others has been a fascination of mine for a long while. I never really had a role model growing up and hearing others tell tales of people they looked up to made me feel like I had missed out on something vital. So I had decided that I would do what I could to make sure others did not have to do the same.
There's also the fact that I wanted to work with voice overs. More specifically I wanted to work in animation. To be able to portrait characters on a screen was another fascination of mine. A way to become someone else for a while, to escape reality by diving into another world and living another life. As it is, reality holds little interest for me. It always feels like it just isn't interesting enough. Now I stress to say that I do enjoy aspects of life. If I didn't I would not be around anymore. It's just that reality always seem to fall short. I believe living simply has become too easy. No real challenges anymore. No dangers lurking nor any struggles to be met other than finding a way to pay for the food on the table and maybe keep a permanent roof over your head.
As evening slowly turned to night I pop my sleep aid pills and tuck into bed, hoping for once that sleep would find me. As exhausted as I was and tired from lack of proper sleep this last week one would think that was easy enough. What with me using medication and everything. I've had the sleeping problems since I was fifteen though so I hadn't gotten my hopes up.
~▲~
5 am and no dice. I was at this point so sleep deprived one would think I would be able to fall asleep but nope. I had dozed off for about half an hour in there somewhere, but it did not last as I woke up from the refrigerator in my room starting up and humming into the dark. Some would find it funny I guess. Let me explain something about my sleep disorder to you. As I mentioned earlier, I have difficulty falling asleep. Thing is though, when I actually do fall asleep. I'm efficiently dead to the world. My brother tested just how far gone I was once. Nothing too complicated, started off with making an altar on my back. Complete with candles with running wax down my back and a show katana balancing on my spine. After that didn't do much, he resulted in kicking me in the ribs. Hard enough to knock me out of bed. I kept snoring.
Now that you got some context. Here's the kicker. What actually manages to wake me up are a few things which makes little to no sense. For starters, if someone tries to sneak past my bedroom door in the morning, in the intent of not waking me up, I wake up so fast I would give even the brightest of early birds pause. Same thing with the distinct noise of my mothers footsteps on a stairway. Yep, my sleep befuddled mind actually manages to discern the exact noise that my mother makes and wakes me from it. No other footsteps works the same way. The last thing that manages to wake me would be Rasputin's song from the old animation movie Anastasia. Don't ask me why, but when he kicks off with "Come my minions! Rise for your master!" I wake up zombie style, singing along for all I'm worth.
To my flatmates never ending amusement.
As I lie trying to empty out my mind in the hopes of getting at least a few minutes more sleep, it starts. Oh dear lord I thought I was done with this shit.
"Ryan". The voice of my flatmate calls out into the dark expanses that is my mind.
"Ryan". Picks up my mothers voice. Sounding like she's calling me for dinner like in the old days.
"Ryyyyan". Calls out the whiny, grating voice of one of my childhood friends. The old voice he used to have a 10 years past. Not the seemingly bland voice he has now.
"Ryan!" Of course, that voice had to be the one that picked off where the last one let up.
"Rya-Ryan. R-Ry-Rya-N-Ry-An-Ryan-Yan". Voices starts peppering my name into my head, faster and louder until I can't tell them apart anymore and my mind is more drowned in noise than a waterfall.
"RY-RYAN-RYAN!!!" And just as the sound becomes unbearable, just as it reached levels that would break a lesser mind, it goes quiet.
In the wake of all that noise, my mind feels not only eerily quiet, but unfathomably hollow. As if there never had been a thought there in the first place. I guess one could imagine that this is how the brain would feel if it were to take a reboot. Kinda. Guess not. You get my point though.
After having my brain assaulted by all the voices I've ever heard uttered in my mediocre existence, I drag myself out of bed. By some rare miracle I find the light switch on the first try and get myself to the bathroom to freshen up. A few minutes later I've finished taking one of the quickest showers of my life and stand in front of the mirror. Still annoyed about the lack of sleep and knowing of the dangers of comfort when I am in this state of being, I try to keep myself out of situations where I might actually fall asleep. If I do fall asleep now I'm not waking up for eighteen hours, so forgive me for not being keen on falling asleep in the shower. Where, my luck would probably get me drowned.
My bad luck is actually a sort of a joke among my peers. It's known as The Kent Luck. Basically synonymous with "Oh U Fuk'd Nao!" My closest friend and I once theorized that two, a bit too convenient deaths in the family. Where the direct result of The Kent Luck(tm) giving me and him the chance to go through with some plans that were supposed to be cancelled. After that, I kinda stopped asking unknown deity's for favors. I don't particularly believe in the supernatural, but y'know. Just in case.
I am per definition, a Strong Agnostic. Though that's neither here nor there. I'll just point out that the reason I am such is because I can not find any reason to believe in a higher being, nor does reincarnation seem possible to me. However I also believe that to blatantly deny something because of lack of proof is the greatest sin one can make towards knowledge. To perceive something as a fact when one does not have sufficient proof towards either side is to spit Truth in the face. I do not, nor will I ever consider something "The truth" if there is not real scientific evidence behind it. As science, I bend my view on the world based on what is perceived.
As I gaze into the mirror I see the same old sight that has greeted me from the beginning of memory. Myself. At this point in time I have fairly long black hair. On the front it goes down to my jaw line with a blond stripe down the right side. On the back it goes down below my neck and a good many centimeters downwards my spine. My face is cleanly shaven except for a gathering on my chin. Which is about five-six centimeters long. Think Jack Sparrow without the mustache and no braiding. I'm fairly tall, a hundred and eighty-one centimeters to be exact. With a slender build which gives the illusion of some defined muscles. On the left side of my chest, over my heart I have a tattoo of a self designed ankh. I wear some simple, but stylish glasses with a black top rim. Something which would be typically seen on a office worker I would assume. Other than the distinct lack of hair on my chest and stomach I'm fairly typical looking. That is except the fact that I'm drop dead handsome though. That's my personal opinion at least. Tall, dark and mysterious. What more can you ask for?
After drying and brushing my hair I go back to my room and get myself dressed for the day. Once again packing myself in several layers of clothing, before booting up my desktop to waste away the next two hours until school.
Having made myself a cup'o'joe somewhere in the time before I got out to catch the bus, I found myself moderately alive by the time I have myself seated and stare vacantly out the bus window. Being that I had promised my flat mate to meet up with him on a café after school today I had packed more things with me in my school bag than normal. Examples would be my death note, (got it from a weaboo friend of mine) my penhouse, (I only ever write notes on my netboard anyways, so I almost never use it) and a whittling knife. (In case of spontaneous walks through the few woodlands areas we got here in the city. I like having the means to make myself crude wooden tools and weaponry. I think of it as therapeutic).
Why we could end up in a woodland area when we're supposed to be talking business in a café is beyond me, but stranger things have happened in my group of friends. Once we we're supposed to go get a snack a ten minute drive away and ended up taking an 8 hour long road trip to shop. For, and I quote: "Shitz 'n' Giggles".
We were that kind of spontaneous group. Doing whatever came to mind just because we could.
I arrive at school with little of interest happening on the way. Stopped for a cup of coffee, had a smoke. The usual. School was the same as always too. Sometimes boring, sometimes really fascinating. Depending on which course I was in and what we we're doing in the course. I shan't bore you with the details but suffice to say, nothing really interesting happened.
Standing outside I strike up a conversation with one of my many classmates.
*Yaaaawn* "It's Thursday, right?" I ask him while stretching my back to it's utmost capacity.
He just rolls his eyes before replying with heavy lidden sarcasm
"Noo? Is it? I always thought we ended the day with math on Fridays!"
Feeling as if it's whats expected off me I put on a smirk, narrow my eyes and punch him in the shoulder before commenting.
"Shaddap! You know I can't tell time for shit."
Chuckling to himself he waves his hands in a 'what-can-you-do?' Gesture.
"Heh, there's a difference between not being able to tell time and not knowing what freaking day it is dude. I swear, you are helpless."
Knowing of my own aptitude of being late for appointments, I end the conversation by giving him a flat look before lifting my nose in a falsified insulted manner.
"Well then! If that is what you truly feel then I shall remove myself from your presence and be helpless elsewhere. Good day!" I end, with a mock British accent and storm off.
"I'll see you tomorrow if ya can remember to actually show up!" He yells after me while I make my way towards the pre-mentioned café.
The way to the café takes me through one of my favorite places in the city. One of the parks. It's great. They got rivers running through it with duck ponds, and benches to sit in and everything. Perhaps I should point out that I’m the type of person who appreciates beauty. More specifically natural beauty. There’s few things in this world that is as special as being at a mountain top and watch the world unfolded all around you. It humbles you, above all. You truly get that feeling of being insignificant.
Walking through the park I light up another smoke and start heading down one of the several pathways that has been made. I truly enjoy walking through this park. Kinda get’s you out of the city feeling, y’know? Having grown up on a much less urban environment in my youth I’m much more inclined towards nature than the city environment. Though as it is, if you want a job in music or acting you gotta adapt and move to the bigger city’s. So I did. I don’t have to like it.
Dragging down the smoke I look around the park, noticing the details once more. It’s kinda weird really. You can see the towering buildings just outside of this little patch of nature. Just a sanctuary, nothing more. It gives off the feeling that the buildings, and the bustling activity of the city will swallow up this peace at any given time.
Heading towards the duck pond I’m contemplating sitting down for a few ticks, just to enjoy this feeling some more. I look down at my feet walking briskly towards their destination. Heading along a pathway made of gravel. The soft crunching noise is kind of soothing actually. It takes your mind off all other distractions, if you are willing to let it. As I focus on the sound I once more look up towards the buildings in the distance. Giving off a small frown of discontentment I close my eyes briefly, just flowing along to the sound of gravel beneath my feet.
*crunch* *crunch* *crunch* *clack*. Hmm, that was odd. Did I step on a rock or something? as I open my eyes and look down I realize I must have gotten out of the pathway when I closed my eyes. Under my feet was a mass of tangling roots covering rock in a natural kind of way. I look upwards towards the duck pond, In an attempt to get back on the pathway.
The sight that greeted my eyes, where not what I expected. Not in the least. In front of me, no all around me actually. Was not the park I had been in only seconds past, but trees. Thick forest surrounded me on all sides, as if I had been hiking through it for hours. In my confusion I did not realize that the trees where not covering the path I was headed, It was actually devoid of trees. When my foot signaled my brain that it was not stepping on anything I realized why the path ahead did not contain trees. It was because it did not contain anything. Adrenaline surged through my body as my foot stepped downwards into nothing and my body followed. My mind raced to understand the situation it suddenly found itself in.
I had stepped off a cliff side. And now I was falling. Fast. I spun my body in a vain attempt to grab the ledge of the cliff before I hurtled downwards towards my inevitable death. No such luck it would seem, I was not near fast enough to get a grip. The only thing I managed to do was crack my hand into the rock and getting a shock of pain. Of course, I did not even register the pain as I fell downwards towards my demise. Looking down I realize I was heading towards a bunch of trees. It truly was a long way down. Oh this is gonna hurt really bad, or at least it will hurt really bad for about half a second. Then, considering my luck I’ll probably be speared on a tree and die. Wait, no that’s wrong. Considering my luck I’ll probably be speared on a tree and then live. A whole long while. In agony.
This is gonna suuuuuck.
*CRASH* The sound fills my ears just as a lightning strike surge through my body. Or at least that’s the closest comparison that comes to mind. The pain is unbearable. I’m pretty sure I broke my spine.
*CR-R-RACK* Oh Sweet Jesus F**** Chr*st! Oh Mother, F****! Aaah! The pain, oh dear lord the pain! My foot, How in the name of all that hates me can something possibly hurt so much. Why ain't I dead yet!
*Thump* My eyes snap open as the air rushes out of my lungs. Adrenaline still coursing through my body, my mind rushes to analyze the situation. A futile attempt of self preservation if I ever knew one.
Let’s see, from the insane amounts of pain coming from my left knee I can only assume I've lost the foot entirely. Looking down at it, I not only realize how wrong I am. I also realize it was a bad idea to look.
~▲~
One never really learns to appreciate unconsciousness, for one you never realize you are unconscious. And when you wake up, you quickly forget that you were unconscious in the first place.
Flashing lights fill my vision as pictures rush towards me and through me. The first thing I notice in this tunnel that is my existence for the moment is the sound of rushing wind, the
second and by far more prominent thing I notice is pain. Blindingly, furious pain. As my mind clicks into place and I wake up, I scream out a chortling cry of pure agony. Oh dear god, this pain. I can’t describe it with words. There is no way you can explain this sort of torture to anyone. It is the sort of thing that would go down in legend with words like epic and godlike. Silly words that don’t hold a candle to the actuality of the situation.
I realize that I must have fallen unconscious. Looking down at the source of my most prominent pain I understand why. In fact, I was pretty close to faint again. Out of my knee sticks out a jagged broken bone, probably five, six centimeters outwards. Breathing raggedly it’s all I can do keeping myself from throwing up. The rational side of my mind keeping me from doing so in a vain attempt to keep liquid in my body. After all, I’m in the middle of a forest, with a broken leg. Who knows how long it will be until I’m found. If I get found.
This has gotta be one of the worst way to go. Slowly, in the middle of nowhere. Alone. With unbearable pain. Yup. A metal death if I ever heard of one. I don’t want it though. I want to live. In fact, I want to live, without pain. Funny that.
As I lie, trying in vain not to move my leg around too much, I try my best to analyze what other damage I might have sustained. In a fall that, by all rights no one should be able to survive. Seriously. Fu*k my luck. This kind of pain is the kind that makes you question whether life is worth it or not.
I should point out that pain is something I’m rather used to. Growing up as I did you tend to get rather efficient at ignoring pain. I’m the kind of guy who for some reason piss of people when I’m out drinking. Don’t really know why, guess that tall, skinny guys with glasses seem like easy targets I guess. Because of that though I have developed both a high resistance to pain and have made some tactics that make most squeamish about attacking me. Funny how when someone punches you in the face and you react by laughing them in the face afterwards makes most people think twice about fucking with you. I guess most just don’t expect you to grin through the blood flowing down from your nose after an act of aggression. Now, I’m not trying to say that people where I live are weak or anything. But when you grew up with a physically abuse brother who went to boxing and had a pure knock out win streak, you kinda get a high resistance towards most physical aggression.
Of course, that kind of “pain” and this kind. There is a whole world in difference. I thought I was tolerant to pain. Wrong. I was so, so wrong.
I try to move my hands, not much luck in that department. Screaming out in another bout of agony I realize my left shoulder is most likely dislocated, pretty badly. My right hand has faired better, though not my far. some of the fingers are bent in awkward ways that makes my head spin just looking at. Some of the nails have actually been ripped right out of their sockets.
~▲~
Once again, flashing lights and images surge through and around me. Oh why could I not just stay unconscious? There’s no pain when you are dead to the world.
Waking up I grit my teeth as tears start streaming down my face. I sob to myself as lie on the bed of flowers. Hm? I hadn't noticed that I before. Well, considering the pain I was in and the state of my body I guess I can’t be blamed for not noticing my environment. Funny thing, these flowers. Tall and proud they stand. Startlingly blue, and oddly familiar actually. I swear I know these flowers. Now, actually knowing flowers ain’t that special, but there was something about these flowers that sent a tingling down my spine. Why did I have such a hard time placing them? Well for one, I had never actually seen them in reality before. Hm, odd way of putting it brain. Then it clicked. Poison Joke. As in, from the show I watch.
Perhaps I should point that out, while I’m lying here waiting to waste away anyway. I am, what has become known as a brony. What that means is basically that I am a person who watches a show called My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic. It’s originally made for a younger demographic, but has become very popular among young adults. I was no exception, being that I am a sucker for happy go lucky settings. Being a great fan of equines probably had something to do with it too. I was one of those who grew up loving horses. After we had one for grazing a summer long past, I kinda got obsessed. That was of course, very much to the amusement of the other boys in my class who all was fan of cars and such. Horses apparently is a girl thing. Meh, I never cared too much about what was supposed to be girly or manly though. I figured it didn’t matter. I was a guy, I liked horses. Get over it.
Hm, I never actually thought that they would base the design for poison joke off of a real flower though. I wonder what the actual name of these plants are.
As I lie here contemplating this, I notice a sound. To be fair, I guess it’s safe to say that I actually noticed a smell first. It just didn’t register in my mind before I heard the sound. For one, the smell was horrid. Unlike anything I had smelled before. Filled with pain and being as groggy as I was, it should come as no surprise that I first thought the smell came from the flowers. I quickly dismissed the notion however when I heard the noise again. It didn’t really click in my mind what it was at first, but it did not take long for me to realize what it was. A growl. Oh yes, my luck exactly! I don’t get to starve to death. I get to be eaten!
As the bushes on the edge of the flower patch rustles I sob once more. It was a pitiful sound. Bordering between fear and acceptance. I raise my neck as far as it can go, so I at the very least can get to look at what shall eat me. What meets my eyes, shocked me even more than the fall which broke my body. It was wolves. That much I could tell right away. However, these were not the types of wolves that roam around in your average forest. These were, legitimate Timber wolves. Or, that is, legitimate my little pony timber wolves. As in, the timber wolf made up of actual timber. And, um. What the actual flying fuck.
It was at this point I realized I had gone crazy. Yep, the pain had driven me absolutely bonkers. No doubt about it. I was stark raving mad. I alternated between crying and laughing at this point. Wincing and crying out every other second from pain, brought on by the shaking motion. I could only guess at what the wolves would think of their prey. Lying there, pitifully on a platter made of flowers, laughing and/or crying it’s ass off.
As they stalked ever closer I noticed my poor abused adrenaline glands where once more kicking it into high gear and the pain in my body, while not completely gone dulled down a bit. Seems my body was actually trying to save itself. Doesn’t seem to know when to give up huh? Well not very much I can do, considering that I’m pretty much immobilized. Fuck it, I ain’t gonna just let them eat me. That just isn’t me. I lift my battered right arm, pretty much the only member of my body I can move at this time and drag it over to my left shoulder to get off my school bag. I was currently lying on top of the damned thing and I knew I had a knife in there somewhere. Aah my trusted whittling knife. How glad I am I packed you.
To say it hurt getting the bag strap off my shoulder is an understatement. Having only my thumb unhurt on my right hand meant I had to hook the strap with my thumb and drag it off. And my left shoulder was still dislocated. Top that off with the pain causing me to kick with my left leg, and I think you can know what happened next. Screaming bloody murder, it took me 3 tries just to get the bag strap loose and over my head to free it. Of course, the flap of the bag was closed so I had to get that opened too. And as luck would have it, my knife was underneath all the shit in my bag.
Small wonder the wolves hadn't already eaten my face off at this point. Guess all that blood curdling screaming made them wary. My luck though, says they ain't the type to give up. Nope, though they were much slower now they still kept coming. Prowling inwards in a circle. Each time they made a full circle they moved in one more step. It was kind of hypnotizing to watch. I probably would have been fascinated, you know, hadn't it been for the fact that they wanted to eat me!
Taking what few digits on my right hand that hadn't been broken I gripped the whittling knife with all the strength I could muster. I bit the scabbard and dragged it off. Praying silently to whoever deity that would take to watch this happen that I at least got a, shall we say, epic death. Course, seeing as how I was the equivalent of a over sized meatball with a toothpick right now I truly doubt that would happen.
I heard a twig snap underneath one of the wolves paw’s and then it happened. They lunged. All of them at the same time. Before I even had the chance to scream they crashed together. Seems they ain't the smartest of creatures, seeing as they got tangled together and landed straight on top of me. That hurt. Like all seven circles of hell that hurt. One thing you should know about timber wolves? They are heavy. Like, really heavy. Screaming for all my battered lungs and sore throat was worth I took my whittling knife and stabbed the side of one of the timber wolves. To my unending despair, it stuck pretty firmly. The wolf in question let out a long howl and bounded off with my weapon still planted in it’s side. There goes my last line of defense. Crap!
The other wolves untangled themselves in a chaotic fashion and, to my utter bafflement high tailed it out of the grove as fast as they could. Seemingly, following the other wolf. Had my luck changed? Had I just hit the alpha or something? Looking around at the now eerily quiet flower patch that has become my grave I realize something. My school bag was gone. No knife, and no school bag. Meaning, no weapon and no water nor food. Oh great. This was just great. Crying out my defiance towards the clouds I started cursing all deity’s known to man for the events that has happened towards me. I just can’t seem to catch a break do I? No way, uh-uh. Not me. I gotta eat dirt all the fucking way to death huh? Well fucking fine. I give up! I’ll just lie here and die. Fuck it! I’m done!
~▲~
Hunger.
Now there’s a motivator If I ever met one. Considering that I passed out. Twice. I think I've been lying here for roughly two days now. I had the unending fortune of being rained on for about twenty minutes during one of the nights but other than that I’m going on the reserves of the reserves. I’m dying. Fuck, I’ve been dying for two days. However it’s now that I know I’m getting close. Small wonder that I haven’t bled to death actually. Considering my wounds and all. But nooo, we can’t have that can we? Death by blood loss would be too easy! Oh yes, no passing out and dying peacefully for this guy. No way, no how. Nope, I gotta go slow. God, why did I have to fucking stab that timber wolf. They would at the very least have given me a quick death.
My fingers move around the stem of one of the blue flowers growing around me. I grip it and tug. Why couldn't I land in a patch of coconut trees or something huh? That woulda been sweet. Coconut milk and coconut meat. Oh, fuck I want a coconut. My life! My heart and soul for a fucking coconut. I sob quietly to myself as I start munching on the “poison joke”. I was becoming desperate. Fuck, I was actually hoping these flowers were poisonous at this point. It would save me from a lot of pain right now.
~▲~
I’m not even sure how I’m alive at this point. I have no idea how long I've been here. Days and nights have passed as if I’m watching them in some sort of weird fast forwards documentary and still my body lingers on. Opening my mouth on it’s own accord to accept rain, and eating whatever flower is within reach. I've actually dragged myself a few meters away from where I initially lied, just to be able to eat more flowers. I knew for a fact that they could not be poison joke though. I’ve been here for days and days and nothing has happened too me. If anything the joke it would have pulled would be to keep me alive. No poison, no nothing.
I have no more energy. I just can’t seem to be able to drag myself out of the grove, and I haven’t seen anything remotely looking like a timber wolf since that first day. Why must I linger on. Damn it body, just give the fuck up already.
~▲~
“looo” Hmn?
“Eloooo” What?
“Hellooo!” Whuh? What?
Opening my eyes I realize I had once again fallen asleep. Which was what I mostly did nowadays. I look up towards the sky and notice the moon hanging over me. Full moon huh? Guess that explains the voices in my head once again having come back to taunt me. Never heard them say hello before though. So I guess that’s new.
In the quiet night my ears perked up when the voice once more rang out, deep and burly but with a hint of caution. Outside of my head I notice. “Hello!”
My eyes snap towards the location of the sound. The fact that it was night time and with the grove being surrounded by bushes and thick vegetation rendered that act futile.
Coughing slightly I open my mouth and croak out a feeble “Yes, over... here!”
The voice once again sounded throughout the clearing. “Hello to you my twisted friend, why you lie there, I do not comprehend.”
What the. Did he just rhyme? Here I’m lying in a trail of my own blood, bones sticking out of my body and he’s rhyming?
Coughing once more I manage to ask. “What... what are you talking about?”
From within the darkness the voice rang out. “You seem to be injured, but your intentions are blurred. Why bathe in poison joke, when it is clear your body is broke?”
Dragging out air from my lungs in a frustrated sigh I answer as best as I could. “It’s not as if this situation was my intent.” I pause slightly, trying to figure out how to answer in a rhyme. “This circumstance I could not prevent.” I answer lamely after a few seconds. Hoping to all gods that rhyming back would not be misinterpreted as rude.
A few seconds pass in silence and just as I start to panic, thinking he might have left he answers. “By the state of your body and of your surrounding. It seems as if you have gotten quite a pounding. I am inclined to believe that you fell from up high, but if that was the truth, how did you not die?”
“I’ve been asking myself that for the last couple of days” I answer in a voice so dead it even made me cringe.
“Well, for me to save you, there are but few ways” he answered, efficiently ending my rhyme for me.
“I’m all ears boss!” I croak out, trying to add some humor to the situation.
“To enter the grove, I cannot. In the poisonous joke, I would then be caught.” His voice trailed off into silence again.
“Then what can ya do? Umm, Dear mister stew?” I once again throw in a desperate rhyme. Not even knowing fully why at this point.
The sound of something hard hitting something hard sounds out. “Umm, you ok there?” I call out worriedly.
“Yes... I’m fine. Just got a hoof caught in this head of mine.” He called back.
A hoof? Well he sounds African for some reason, maybe it’s a saying of some sort.
“Now listen carefully, I will throw you a vine. And you shall grab hold of it, like a life line.” He called out to me.
“I’m kind of in a bind though, a dislocated shoulder and a busted hand to grab the vine you throw” I answer back, fluently rhyming this time for some reason.
“No need to fret you see, You shall bite hold of the vine, and I’ll drag you to me!” He answered in his burly African voice.
As I try to answer that I doubt I’m near strong enough to hold my own weight by my jaws the vine comes flying in. The end of it hitting me straight in the eye. Mumbling some choice swear words under my breath I take the vine with my busted hand and guide it into my mouth. Biting down for dear life.
“Are you ready? I will now drag you out, slow and steady!” He calls out and starts ever so slowly drag in the rope.
The moment the rope grows taunt I feel my body beginning to drag with it. The moment I start to move however my left leg explodes in pain and I scream out in agony.
“Please, I know your in pain, but if you do not hold on it will all be in vain!” The voice calls out from the dark.
Panting loudly, with tears streaming down my face I grab hold of the vine and bite down on it again, this time choosing to use it as much as a protection for my tongue as the way out of the grove.
It takes a few good tries, but eventually I’m out of the grove. panting loudly and sobbing to myself. The pain is reaching unbearable levels and it took all my willpower just to stay awake during the ordeal. As my vision starts to swim and the edges of the world grow dark I hear the distinct sound of a horse clopping it’s merry way and the last thing I see before once again, giving in to blissful unconsciousness was a zebra leaning over me. Yep, definitely crazy.