TRIBAL
Chapter II: Consciousness
- "Very scary! Awesome stuff!"
- "Really well written and builds the suspense well."
   Strangely numb and tingly was the body of the man as he regained consciousness. A tight long blink revealed everything to be a collage of curved thorns. Green and perhaps deadly sharp, they appeared in a great number everywhere visible. There was only a few noticeable which didn't dig into his back and sides as he lay flat. Each thorn had been cut off skilfully from whichever plant they'd came from. They also appeared unnaturally large for what they were - perhaps because he was so deep within them it was a cruel illusion, or maybe they really were oversized. He moved his swollen eyes through a now blood-stained mask and started to leer obliviously up at a hole in the canopy. White ash breezed past in warm air in front of the dark and irksome sky, seeming to almost make up for a lack of stars.

  As a vile uninviting smell had begun to linger, a low-toned chanting and a delayed beating of drums arose. It may have been subtly there before but the man never noticed up until he got his whereabouts. He somewhat bite his lip as he attempted to move slightly from the impaling thorn trap. There was no pain, for he knew nothing of this, but the way they dug into his skin prevented any movement. But then, a smile crept onto his face. A smile which flowed into a devious chuckle. He got up swiftly with no help from his hands and leaped out of the pit. Pieces of his flesh were ripped off, but just for a moment he stood proud before a rush in the head made him collapse onto the warm dirt. He shouted out:

"Voices in the head I feel superbly insane,
And from those thorns feel immense pain.
Whoever did take me in such an assault,
Still haven't caused me to come to a halt."

No one was in sight as he sat up. "I need to work on that one, pet," he mumbled. He walked around aimlessly in the darkness for what seemed like hours, perhaps trying to find where the rainforest begun again. It was then that a glare of a fire nearby suddenly lit up. Little by little the light presented an area gloomy and lifeless - what remained of nature here looked almost angry and seemingly inhabitable. Tepee-like homes, sprinkled in ash, blocked anything visible beyond all around him. Not even much plant life save for chopped down kapoks. In fact, he noticed the tee-pees were made from kapok wood, with feathered dream catchers dangling down from every entrance.

He reached up to grab one when something started to drip down his back. Actually by the feel of it sticking onto his back it may have been for a while. He reached behind to wipe it off, looked and saw nothing. However, pushing his large hand forward towards the fire light, a maroon liquid had obviously covered his hand. He smiled in his usual way. More curious the man was than scared as he glanced up. However, what he saw caused him to instinctively squeeze his blood-stained fist like a vice. What was once a man.. eyeless, armless and red all over, was inhumanly impaled on a large stick from the ground. It seemed almost like a trophy. The shock went almost as soon as it came and he grinned once again.

“Ah, AH! You’re that THING, you. Didn't run... much like myself! I like that, I like that!”

There was no answer. Whatever this creature was it was obviously dead, but this didn't stop him looking up at it for at least a minute, expecting an answer. A faint and sorrowful song from a bird cried out as this went on, eventually causing him to peer around. A silhouette of a long tailed bird was lit underneath from a blazing fire as it flew gracefully in front of the ever darker sky. It faded. After this, he looked back and pointed at the corpse with a smile. A smile which once again painfully tugged the green stitches that bided his lips.

“I enjoyed our talk.”

The air now was becoming so thick with an unnatural substance that it was impossible to breath properly. The drums stated to become louder and faster. Then, something suddenly struck him at full pelt. A dead dirty haired animal fell lying face down in front of him. He picked it up with another unneeded tight grip, which had now blood-stained his other hand, matching up. Holding just inches away from his face he saw it had been defaced and gutted. Narrow-eyed, he was trying to actually work out what kind of creature it was. It had been a while since he'd seen any animal in the forest these days. Releasing it without moving an inch, it fell to the ground with a sickening squish. He took off his mask. Wet with blood, and what was once a rafflesia petal, he dropped it onto the animal. Then peering round slowly with one pupil-less bloodshot eye, slowly bulging more than the other, the half of his face which was visible was unspeakably hideous.

The angered man sprinted behind one of the tribesmen’s homes, heading towards the fire. The drums became more progressive as the song from the bird called out again, with such sorrow that it could bring a tear to the hardiest of eyes. As soon as Morose had heard this, his body became motionless. He was in front of a gazing fire an arms length away in front of him. Breathing in heavily the warmth, the intense heat felt strangely pleasurable against the drying blood on his sweating face. The painless puncher wounds from the thorn trap he had jumped out of earlier were bleeding heavily, which caused him to feel even more light-headed as he gradually fell to his knees once again. Morose stared at his sweat dripping to the ground before suddenly a disturbing memory came rushing back to him. He gazed into oblivion as his childhood became clear.

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