Rhapsody in Blue
Posted: Sat Jun 17, 2023 5:25 pm
((K. Emerson continued from Don't Sing))
K. swallowed hard and was keenly aware of his heart thudding against his chest as he trudged through the slush.
All he had was his mace and the bottle that Jessica had given him several days ago. After their meeting and greedily imbibing of her generous offering, he had set off walking, hoping to find something. He reached the housing area and went about cautiously searching the houses for food. He needed something, anything. When K. had fled from Janice, in his panic, he left behind all his food. That was back on day 2.
The houses had been stripped bare. All he found were desolate cupboards and pantries littered with rat droppings. Idly, he had wondered if he could kill a rat with a mace. Even if he could, could he eat a raw rat? What would it be like to bite into the fur, chew through its muscle, swallow down raw rat organs? The thought was unthinkable on day 3. It was possible on day 4. It was a delirious wish on day 7.
He had to leave the shelter of the homes if he was going to find food. For the first two days his stomach hurt like he’d never experienced. But the human body is adaptable and once you know you need food, in time the hurt dulls to an ache, and the weakness escalates. Maybe he could find someone who would share like Jessica had, even if the thought of burdening someone with his needs caused a pain in his stomach worse than the stab of hunger. Maybe he could find a dead person with supplies; he could be the vulture scavenging the dead.
K. set out into the wilderness at night hoping that it would shield him from danger and snow blindness, and because it just reminded him of the familiar. He could never sleep back home and was always roaming at night in what felt like a secret world of his own.
K. stumbled and fell onto his back into a powdery drift. He didn’t have the strength to move. It was impossible to lift his mace let alone his body. He thought of pizza and birthday cake as he looked up at the scintillating stars. The memory of food was all he had to eat, and the longer he gazed up, the more he felt the ground leaching his warmth. But he didn’t have the power for anything else. Soon, he stopped being cold at all. Even the shivering stopped. K. felt a warmth and comfort wash over him and though his brain was in a near incomprehensible daze and his body was numb, it didn’t feel so bad. It was maybe the best he had felt in days.
He died a reptile in the cold.
Kyle "K" Emerson: Deceased
K. swallowed hard and was keenly aware of his heart thudding against his chest as he trudged through the slush.
All he had was his mace and the bottle that Jessica had given him several days ago. After their meeting and greedily imbibing of her generous offering, he had set off walking, hoping to find something. He reached the housing area and went about cautiously searching the houses for food. He needed something, anything. When K. had fled from Janice, in his panic, he left behind all his food. That was back on day 2.
The houses had been stripped bare. All he found were desolate cupboards and pantries littered with rat droppings. Idly, he had wondered if he could kill a rat with a mace. Even if he could, could he eat a raw rat? What would it be like to bite into the fur, chew through its muscle, swallow down raw rat organs? The thought was unthinkable on day 3. It was possible on day 4. It was a delirious wish on day 7.
He had to leave the shelter of the homes if he was going to find food. For the first two days his stomach hurt like he’d never experienced. But the human body is adaptable and once you know you need food, in time the hurt dulls to an ache, and the weakness escalates. Maybe he could find someone who would share like Jessica had, even if the thought of burdening someone with his needs caused a pain in his stomach worse than the stab of hunger. Maybe he could find a dead person with supplies; he could be the vulture scavenging the dead.
K. set out into the wilderness at night hoping that it would shield him from danger and snow blindness, and because it just reminded him of the familiar. He could never sleep back home and was always roaming at night in what felt like a secret world of his own.
K. stumbled and fell onto his back into a powdery drift. He didn’t have the strength to move. It was impossible to lift his mace let alone his body. He thought of pizza and birthday cake as he looked up at the scintillating stars. The memory of food was all he had to eat, and the longer he gazed up, the more he felt the ground leaching his warmth. But he didn’t have the power for anything else. Soon, he stopped being cold at all. Even the shivering stopped. K. felt a warmth and comfort wash over him and though his brain was in a near incomprehensible daze and his body was numb, it didn’t feel so bad. It was maybe the best he had felt in days.
He died a reptile in the cold.
Kyle "K" Emerson: Deceased