Who doesn't like oneshots? [ON HOLD]

Believe Me [Romesse]

Requested by Arctic_wolf_919

"Help... Please!"

Lonely shouts of a raw, tired voice could be heard in the forest around Beacon Town. It wasn't hard to just ignore them, they were so silent that one could easily mistake them for a howl of the wind or the ruffle of yellow and red leaves. That voice couldn't belong to the amazing forest, which was slowly preparing for the winter. The trees changed their outfits, the sides of a small, slow river with no name were already covered by the thinnest of ice.

It was all the same in every spot of the forest, in every corner of the woods. And so it was on a small glade, which had once belonged to a tiny village. But as the village turned into a big city, the glade was forgotten and left for the mercy of nature.

"Anyone... Please?"

A small black snake slithered on top of a human-made stone, allowing the rays of sun to warm up its cold blood. Tiny, thin, barely noticable, the snake carried the most dangerous poison in her fangs. One drop of its venom - and every creature, however big or small, would fall on the ground without taking another breath.

But the snake only tilted its head and glanced at the person under it with no interest. The person looked back with tears in his eyes. He knew this little creature could be his death, but it wasn't what he was scared of. At this point, he would welcome a quick and painless death.

But death played with him, like children play with their toys. And the man couldn't seem to die. Even now, when the only solution was almost within his grasp, it was still too far away.

Up on the top of the old dry well he was sitting in.

The man whimpered, not able to cry anymore. His tears had all been squeezed out already, and so his body went to trembling - the only way for anyone to see all the emotional torture he was going through. But there was nobody. Nobody apart from that little venomous snake, that couldn't care less about the human.

He sighed and hugged his knees to his chest, resting his head on top of them. He didn't even wince when his wounded leg got scraped against the hard stone. The bleeding had stopped already, and now he could clearly see the odd angle under which one of his bones was sticking out under his skin. The swelling turned almost black.

"Please!" He cried out again, but with every word he said he said his throat felt like it was being torn to pieces. "A-anyone! Ple-"

The rest of his plea was silenced by a wave of horrible coughs that only caused more pain. The man winced and clenched his fists in the wave of pure agony. His breathing was laboured, his eyes almost blind because of endless staring up, on the bright sky.

The snake only hissed silently, as if laughing at the suffering of the man, and pulled the rest of its scaly body under the sunlight. The prisoner of the well only sighed and looked down, knowing that help wasn't coming. He was all alone in there. Even if a person found him, they would leave him for death anyway.

The man lay down on the cold stone, curling into a ball, his injured leg barely moving. He was so, so cold. The stone sucked all warmth, all life out of him, and the little spark which was still shining inside his heart was about to fade. Long starvation, dehydration and loss of blood didn't make it easy for his heart to beat. And the man knew that as soon as the sun set, the temperature would drop suddenly.

And then - was that a hallucination? - after long hours of lying around and remembering all the horrible things that had happened in his life, a sound of footsteps shook him awake. He looked up, noticing the dissapointed snake hiss and slither away. And that weak, that fading spark inside his heart turned into blazing fire.