Outnumbered Days

Outnumbered Days

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Fri, May 8, 2020
What would you do if you know that your days are numbered? What if there are ways for you to add your days so you could live longer? Would you risk everything so that your life is spared? Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Was that the sound of my heart hammering against my ribcage or was that the sound of my footsteps? I could feel my fear swallowing my whole being. No time to think, survival comes first. I looked around me trying to get a sense of where I am. Trees. Tall, towering trees. They looked like they were at least 300 years old. For a split second, I envied them. Envy to the fact that they call this forest home, whereas to me, it is a labyrinth I am trying my best to escape. My chest heaves upwards and downwards trying to pump more oxygen into my lungs. Dried leaves and twigs crunched beneath our feet as we kept going. My senses heightened as more adrenaline coursed through my body. My eyes flickered from the compass clutched in my right hand to the winding path in front of us. Every once in a while, I wiped the beads of sweat trickling down my forehead which was clouding my vision. We are not predators, we are the preys living our outnumbered days.
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isolation

this story is about a scientist in Antarctica slowly losing his sanity I can feel the corners of my lips tug upwards and before I know it, I'm cackling. My laughter rings through the empty room, bouncing off the walls as I double over in hysterics. Despite the dire situation, I can't seem to stop. With each passing second, my giggles become more uncontrollable, more manic. As I catch my breath, I try to reassure myself. "Everything will be fine," I tell myself, punctuating my sentence with another bout of laughter. "Because, because!" I repeat, and my voice breaks into another round of giggles. But soon, my mirth turns to misery as my laughter becomes sobs. I collapse on my hands and knees, tears streaming down my face until they blur my vision. The tears burn my skin, adding to my anguish. I can't even cry in peace, can't even surrender to my despair without feeling physical pain. "Oh god, I ruin everything Johnny- I'm sorry!" I cry out, my voice cracking. "I'm supposed to keep care of you and I'm sorry! I'm so sorry Johnny!" I scream, pounding my fists on the cold, hard floor in frustration. It's no use. Nothing can save me. I feel my tears freezing on my face and I quickly dry them with the back of my hand. I crawl over to the fire, seeking warmth and comfort. But there's no comfort to be found.

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