A Tale of Grey Man

Two

A big glob of lukewarm water fell on my left knee. Then, the second glob fell, and the third—after a minute or so, the rain was pelting and spattering upon my body. I opened my mouth and drew my tongue, trying to intercept some of this dribs. Trickles of water ran down my parched throat, and despite the fact that they weren't cold and chilling,it was all the same deliciousness—and, suddenly, as if the rain was a cue, I understood that it was the time to get out of the well. 

I started searching for the ladder that was hanging somewhere near me; my hands were probing the warm, wet stone of the well;I saw nothing in that pitch-black darkness. Finally, I found it, put my foot on the first rung, and began climbing up. The rungs were slippery—it was really difficult to place my feet on them steadily and securely. A couple of times I almost slipped, but, I managed not to tumble down and break my spinal cord. 

I hurried toward the rope, where my clothes had been drying, and put them on. They were soaked again, but I didn't pay attention to it. Quickly, I untied my cord, and stuffed it inside my sack. I retreated to the shack, and once more saw the dead body, lying there. I mused for a moment, and then heaved the cadaver, its limbs were stiff and unbending—it was in the process of rigour mortis.

The corpse was unbelievable heavy, I would have never considered that such a gaunt man could weight so much. I hauled it, stepping with maximum caution. At first, I shouldered the dead man, but its hands obscured my eyeshot. Moreover, the body was so stiff—its legs and trunk were like curved hook that arced behind my back. Finally, conceding my defeat, I kicked the dead body off my shoulder, and started tugging it by the leg. I trudged through the rain—that was a downpour by then—and through the slush; dripping blades of grass were coiling around my calves, like slimy snakes, and hindered my advancement. I tramped all the way to the well, and with an enormous effort, pushed the cadaver in the jet-black gulf. A sickening smack, magnified and enhanced, reverberated in the well.

I returned to the hovel once more, but I just couldn't endure staying there for a night, or even for an hour to wait until the rain stopped. The sweet smell of corruption and the heavy iron evaporation of blood filled the house, rising to the very roof, infusing in every recess, every little slit.

I came out of the shack staggering, shivering, and gasping for fresh air.

Something clicked in my head—I ran amok and dashed from that derelict house, from this muddy clearing, from all those memories, to the forest; it has been my home for twelve  years, and never failed me.

I was dodging from the slashing branches and galloped—galloped toward the nowhere. The downpour grew warmer and hotter until it was scorching my skin. Suddenly, I realised that it wasn't water at all. It was a fiery boiling bubbles of lava. They fell on my clothes, burnt through it, touched my bare skin, and penetrated it savagely, slashing and hacking, like an old mad knight, my sinew and my flesh, searing my bones. The forest was on fire, and everything became once more blurry and uncertain. I didn't see even my hands from the agonising pain that was throbbing and pulsating through my body, from the stifling smoke that was filling my mouth and watering my eyes. I flailed my hands, barking the skin with the passing branches—but, nevertheless, my feet carried me forward.

I felt something in the sludge, tripped over it— the last thought that flashed in my fading mind was: 'the root....'

As I thumped onto the sticky filth, my brain shut down, and I fainted instantaneously.

I soared in the vastness nix—absolute darkness. I didn't breath, nor did my heart beat. Every process in my body ceased. No blood was pumping up my arteries—you never feel the flow of your blood, actually, until you are deprived of it. My lungs were full of void. I felt nothing at all. The time was so sharp, yet barely there—I almost heard the indistinctive sound of falling grains, inexorably approximating the last day of the world. In that way I was hung in the mid-air for some time.