The light shone in, blinding him.
His head pounded, a pain reminding him, of her turmoil, his skinned knees sifted through soil.
Under Earth, he shivered in the horror of what he had unearthed.
The birth, of a dwelling.There was no telling, if escape was to be obtained.
His sights had seemed a trip to his brain, his eye bled, a gash he acquired when he had slipped on a drain.
Mud, and blood a burgundy mix on his clothing. The cocktail for disaster, it spelled out the bitter taste of his fate.
His life what a waste, his ammo what a waste, an empty gun dangled on his waist. He had used all of his mana, in a terrified haste, not wanting to be consumed.
The creature lie on its belly, two arms scratched at the gravel for him. Blade like claws desperate to reach him, a lesson to teach him. It was forewarned, and the creature of the dark abyss wished to fulfill the tale.
Risk, he knew it all too well. No matter how many times, his thirst he never did quell. An obsession which subtracted years from his life. He never thought enough of his poor wife. How she ever slept through the night.
He wondered how she would feel to never see him once more, if anyone would ever recognize him after he was a pile of gore. “Dammit the Lore!” He cried, a safe one for the books he told his wife, he lied.
She probably wouldn’t be surprised, he surmised. She would realize he didn’t show, for one day it was promised she had to know.
His boy, and girl so little, he would never see them grow, bolder rocks faced him to heavy for his heave and ho.
Faith, hope, desperation, prayer, his immediate fascination. He cursed himself for his previous procrastination. One more, he told himself, he always did, just escape death his always did, but always isn’t promised or guaranteed.
He had done the deed, but to what end? To bring his life to an end? To never laugh and smile with his dear friends?
They would forget him, a memory, John, Argas, and Timothy. Friends from the same town since tumbling.
Now only he had fallen, with little hope of getting up.
He thought about giving up, it was imminent him getting stuck. From the creatures chewing, his meat would be turned to chuck, swallowed in the swallows of the dark canyon.
Left to die without a companion.
He closed his eyes, then rock burst. Inspiring sights quenched his deprived thirst, so directly he thought it illusion at first.
From above he saw, the light had grown and it filled him with awe, water dropped and stopped at his jaw.
He looked down, only was a small glimpse visible, but he knew the creature was indivisible, it wouldn’t be far behind.
Rock tumbled and shook, he turned from it, it hurt him just to look, but this would be his only salvation.
His sure reprieve from this tentative devastation.
The light of the Sun’s rays weren’t too far, his effort couldn’t be too hard, he had to push, he had to try. If not he surely would die.
Clenching rock in hand, treasure at his back, he wiggled and pulled hard to navigate through the cracks.
Pain was but an irrelevant issue, this would be his only chance. It had been the perfect circumstance.
Rock shook more, and debris showered, the monster was on his heels climbing at the narrow tower.
He felt it at his feet, swiping, its tongue licking, savoring his proposed defeat.
Nervousness grew, the rocks surely shook at the power of his heart beat.
Pushing, and pulling, he tugged himself through, he declared if he made it that he would see life anew.
Closer, closer, he could smell the air. He smiled, a struggled grin as blood dripped down from his toughened chin.
Knicks, slashes, bumps, and cuts he sustained, he couldn’t give up for his brain had been trained. This was familiar, he knew of the sensation. The feeling when was but only an inch, the vigorous adrenaline always pushed him through the pinch.
One more lift, he was sure now, he would be home free. Then he felt the grasp on his knee.
It tugged with tremendous force, ripping the tendons, and delaying him from his course.
In agony he cried, and cried. He was being pulled, stripped of his pride. Further down he was dragged, his clothes ripping, soon to be a tattered rag.
It would soon be over, his hope would be stolen. Soon he would be just a waste product for the beast’s colon.
“No!” He cried, he wouldn’t give in. He shoved his hand down through the hard gravel and felt around, searching and wishing, hoping, he gasped. The hilt of his blade he felt it now.
He had one choice, there would be no other, he grit his teeth took the blade from its sheath and put it to his leg.
He began to saw, cutting through the muscle, soon down to the bone. There was now a heightened note in his cried tone.
The beast still pulled, he slowly descended lower, until now the blade got lower, finished with the red meat and skin it gnawed at the bone.
Just enough, only a little would be needed. As the beast pulled and pulled, it got what it wished a blooded treat, but only a part of its dish. It would be heated, mad with rage, but it would have to do.
He reached up, retaking his ground, pain in his eyes, sadness in them as he realized his legs, he would no longer have two.
But it was no matter, he climbed out of the hole the Earth being the ladder and now sat on solid ground, tree roots astray no one else around.
He was alive, he would live to see another day, and to the beast its home he knew it would stay.
Tears filled his eyes, and although he could not walk away, he still found great elation that he would once hold his kids today.
The light shone in, blinding him.