I was just a kid then. I saw the forest, with the beautiful trees I could climb and the gorgeous ponds in which I could swim. I played for hours, but I got tired eventually. I was hungry and thirsty, but I didn’t know where I was. I was starving for days, maybe even weeks.
I don’t know exactly how long it took, but I found someone. They had horns, black with red glowing cracks. They were willing to help, but for a price. The price of my soul. I was just a kid, what did I know? I knew I was hungry and that I needed food, and soon. So I did it. I was a dumb kid, and I sold my soul for some berries.
An eternity later, and I’m still paying the price. I am hungry still. I am starving once more. My hair is thinning and my bones are showing, and yet it will not stop. It will never stop. But that’s okay. Because I found someone. Many someone’s. I may not know if they are real or if they are nothing more than a hallucination, and I do not wish to. Ignorance is bliss, as they say.
And one day, the hunger became too much. I summoned the demon who tricked me, and begged for food. I begged and begged and begged. I offered everything I had, from the little weapons I had to my very bones. They refused, as they could get bones whenever they like and mine are brittle anyway.
So, I took my dagger made of iron and i clawed and scratched and bit until they were no more. I feasted that day, though it burned like hellfire. I was not weak, not feeble, not meek any longer. I wanted the demon and everything they held dear to suffer. So I planned. I raised an army of billions. Billions and billions of undead soldiers, marching into the depths of hell. Some burned, some cowards, but billions we stayed.
The weak have become the strong, and they are angry for what has been done to them. They bit, they clawed, they scratched and they won, just as I did. The dead do more than just speak, they scream. They scream about their crimes, about their past victories and losses. About their past lovers and enemies. About their past miracles and wars. Even the dead tell stories, if you just care to listen.
The words “I’m sorry” were the last I heard before ice cold water filled my lungs. I could not see, it must have been the dead of night when it occurred. It was pitch black, but after a moment a glimpse of light was visible.My head throbs and my stomach aches. I claw at the water, desperate to breathe but I can’t no matter how hard I try. I try to scream but the attempt was in vain.
I catch the smallest bit of air and I feel the slightest sliver of a hope. My legs are heavy, I want to collapse. I want to give up. But regardless, I push against the sand in a poor attempt to live. I can feel my legs about to give out beneath me. I continue, though I am trembling terribly. My legs are on fire and I want to rest.
Anger fills my bones and gives me strength. The ice cold water has turned boiling hot. Whatever has caused this will suffer, I will make sure of it. After what felt like an eternity, I can breathe once more.
I turn away to face what or who was at fault. There was nothing. It was a plain beach, with ancient looking trees further out. Most of the area had water, but very shallow water.
All of a sudden, I felt something on my ankle. It grabbed me angrily, its nails digging into my flesh. It burned like hellfire. I tried to free myself, but to no avail. It dragged my leg out, tripping me. Saltwater and sand are immediately shoved into my mouth, feeling like poison. It continues to drag me, and there is nothing I can do to stop it. The water gets deeper and the little hope I had is lost. The hand will not release no matter how hard I try.
As I am dragged underwater, saltwater gets in my eyes. It burns like a thousand suns, but I dare not close my eyes. I see a faint figure. Very, very faint, but it’s there. It was staring at me as it dragged me further into the deep blue sea. Its eyes seemed to practically glow. It was almost inhuman, how easily it pulled this off. The water was freezing, but I still burn with the rage and fury of a hundred soldiers.
When I began to run out of air, I am hit with a sudden urge to fight. To try and plead for my life, no matter the cost. I kick, I bite, I claw at their hands. My heart pulses in my ears and my head throbs once more. Another hand grabs my leg. And another. And another. All of a sudden, seemingly millions of hands grab at me and drag me down into the depths of the ocean. My vision becomes dark, and there is no longer anything I can do. I feel both light as a feather and heavy as a bull. I grab at the last remaining glimpse of light. It is the last I will ever see.