The Mindless Man's Paradise

Chapter nine

I woke up instantly regretting my insistent shouting.

 Hunger was overcoming me. There was nothing but hunger.

 I should have waited and shouted for food. I should have shouted for food and water, not for liberation.

 Not only that, but I had an urge. I had to use the restroom.

 It was hard to hold it in, especially when I was so hung up on my stomach’s growling.

 Eventually, I had wet myself, as well as the less desirable of the two urges.

 I cursed at myself once I realized that now I had no choice but to sit in my own feces.

 Just at this realization, tears formed in my eyes once more.

 Had I really made all that effort and endured my Journey just to end up in a basement, sitting in my own excrement?

 It was a cruel joke. I had survived a bear. I had survived rabies, and I had even betrayed an innocent boy all to get there, and that’s what I got?

 It was almost comical by the time I had finished thinking about it. I even started to laugh.

 Since my voice was completely gone, it came out almost like a wheeze, which evolved to a weak cough.

 Hours passed this way, where I would laugh, wheeze, and cough at the utter irony of my situation. Then, I would tear up at the hunger and my parched mouth. Then I would wet myself and continue to sit in my waste until the stench was unbearable, and I began to vomit.

 This only added to the rancid odor that I was marinating in.

 Against all odds, I fell asleep. I realized that I liked spending my time this way. It made me forget the horrid feelings and surroundings, and allowed me to dream beautifully.

 What if I could just sleep forever?

 What I wouldn’t give for that.

 After a specifically long nap, I heard a creaking noise.

 The first noise I had heard in days.

 The creak was followed by a squeak, which was followed by footsteps.

 Footsteps on wood, it sounded like. Going down, down, down; coming closer to me.

 Suddenly, light.

 Glorious, yet scorching, light.

 “Turn it off, turn it off.” I said, almost inaudible.

 The person complied, and turned off the light.

 Footsteps retreated. 

 Squeak!

 Creak!

 And just like that, the person was gone.

 Had I scared them away, what with my odors, my voice, and my light-starved body?

 Most likely.

 I moaned, or as close as you can get when you can’t talk.

 I wanted to cry, but I was too parched to even form half of a tear. So, instead, I found myself hiccupping, which lead to vomiting, but luckily nothing came out. There wasn’t anything in my stomach to upchuck.

 But then, once more, came the creak.

 Then the squeak.

 And then those familiar, footsteps walking down hollow wooden stairs.