Hey doods. Been a while. Got a new Merome-ish chapter for ya. This is my version of how 'Mitch Met Jerome' and I want to give you the heads up that Jerome's speaking ways are not misstypes, he just doesn't have good english. He's a Bacca! What did youe expect? See you doods later!
~MI over and out!~
He was silent, hazel eyes drifting over the dark landscape. The moon shone from above, throwing the jungle into a pitch black nightmare, shadows dancing across his face. But he didn’t fear the jungle. He admired it. Its life. It’s way of survival. It made him curious to what lived among this natural playground. From what he could see, that was not much. A few birds here and there. He did catch a glimpse of an ocelot, but he blinked and it was gone. He wasn’t sure if he was going insane, or he was just tired. Maybe both. But, he continued on as his grasped onto a sturdy vine that hung from the trees, and swang to the next one. A smile touched his dark features as he imagined himself as Tarzan, living off this land. Oh how peaceful it would be to be one with the jungle.
He shook his head, concentrating on where his hands and feet were as he narrowly missed grabbing a vine. He grunted in frustration as his hands slipped with the moisture that coated his palms. A grimace slid onto his face and he released the vine, wiping his hands on the sleeve of his hoody. With that, he took a flying leap onto the next vine. He grasped it in between his calloused fingers, till he found a satisfying grip. With a noise of strain, he felt blindly for the next vine, its worn surface reaching his hand. He grabbed it and pulled it to him, wrapping his legs around it. With a shaky sigh, he released the vine. Then, immediately regretted it.
With a loud snap, the vine broke in half, right above his head. He let out a gasp of surprise as he plummeted to the ground, closing his eyes as he prepared to feel the painful breaking of his bones as they connected with the solid ground. Instead, he felt a hard surface meet him midair, spinning him wildly and slowing his fall. Then, he face planted into a bed of leaves. Spluttering irritably, he crawled from the pile, dusting off any speck of dirt and removing leaves from his brown hair. He got to his feet, surveying his surroundings. To his dismay, he was trapped in a ditch in the ground. The ledge to climb out was 6 feet above his head, making it impossible to escape. Complaining to himself, he grabbed the broken vine, tying it into a lasso. With hope sinking in the bottom of his chest, he threw the lasso over the edge of the wall.
It slid back into the hole with a thump, leaving him discouraged and alone. Somewhere, he heard the hiss of a creeper. Shivering, he wrapped his hoodie around himself, curling into a ball on the dirty floor and leaning up against the wall of his prison. A few tears escaped down his cheeks, and he wiped them away with muddy fingers. “Help!” He called weakly, his voice cracking with the sobs that echoed off the walls around him. As expected, no answer returned but the howl of the wind rustling the trees above him. He knew he was trapped, and alone. Nobody but him was crazy enough to travel into the jungle. As if anyone would come searching for him anyway. He told Vikk that he would be gone. Much to the Vikk’s distaste, he allowed the younger boy to go. He knew Vikk wouldn't expect him back for a number of days, seeing that he always explored deeper than he should. And, to make matters worse, he forgot his sword.
He sniffled as the cold nipped at his warm skin, and the possibility of freezing to death entered his mind. But he attempted to push away the thoughts, and focus on keeping himself warm. As he blew a gust of warm air on his shaking hands, a twig snapped. He froze, glancing up at the dark shadows that wavered above him. “Hello?” he whispered quietly, his voice quivering with cold and fear. A growl echoed him and he let out a short gasp of fear, backpedaling to push himself further against the wall. White glowing eyes peered at him over the edge of the ledge, and he whimpered in fear. “H-herobrine.” He whispered silently as his mind frantically tried to plan an escape. But, he had to face the facts. He was trapped, and he was going to die. Closing his eyes, he pulled his hoodie up over his head, blocking out his sight. “P-please. I didn’t mean to run into you. Just let me live, please! I’ll do anything!” He cried as a thump landed in front of him. The growling got louder as did his cries as he felt a warm breath on his head, moving through the fabric over his face. Then, he heard a whine.
