Excerpt
I knew I was a human anomaly, but I never imagined there were others, too. Thenceforward, the maxim of expecting the unexpected was reinstated. Peter was one year my junior, a fellow, who, incidentally, emulated my decision of taking a break before university. There was a collection of minor, yet substantial differences, though. He was taking one year of a break, not two. Secondly, it was not entirely a period of rest for him. Instead, he devoted this twelvemonth to the preparation for a career he foresaw as fit for him. Peter aspired to be a field zoologist, one who dealt with animals at several locations, or so I guessed. He frequently visited the interior of the forest to observe the animals and their diverse behaviours. It also happened that he was an accomplished runner and rower. This was evident in his muscular arms and legs, not too large like those monstrous body-builders, but just right in proportions.
Helping him get up from that net of vines was difficult and time-consuming, even though he had a knife with him. Eventually, he was freed. I nearly walked away from him, had he not called me. Peter invited me to come with him cave-exploring. I told him that such a thing was not really what I fancied. I did not wish to dwell in darkness, for I have had enough of darkness in bygone years. When I refused, I took pity on him. His face twisted into a melancholy capitulation as he turned back, scratching the back of his hairy head. Alas, pathos was overwhelming then. I went to him in apology, and changed my mind. Peter was dubious, unsure whether I was joking or not, repeating that his mission was not without possible hazards. Notwithstanding, my acquiescence silenced his concern, and we marched on to the other side of the forest.
So far in those initial eight months, the farthest I have gone jogging was at least two leagues posterior to the forest's northern borders. That was where I in solitude turned around towards home. Peter, as proven, was a different case. He was a true escort, I should confess. Those places unbeknown to me he had frequented in his visits. I kept walking close to him, actually right behind him, while he gave me a discourse on the diversified animal life and habitats of the forest. His constant verbiage I did not really heed, for I was preoccupied with the novelty of the sights I never saw before. The beauty of the place I could not possible describe with mere words, but it was phenomenal indeed.
In the forty minutes or so that it took us to reach the mountain on the other side of the forest, Peter was the sole essence of being garrulous. I yearned to choke him with some acorns, but I had none. Anyway, we stood there, bedazzled at the sight of the mountain. It was definitely not the tallest on Earth, but it was a behemoth nonetheless. Peter pointed to a specific location northeast of us, where the caves awaited our arrival. Thankfully, it was not a formidable height to climb, and the rocks were not very jagged. With Peter by my side, still blabbing, I had a pretty fair sense of security. I knew at those moments that I should have walked rather than run for the last few days. My tight muscles and lower legs were aching with fatigue. Incredibly, I managed to climb vertically up the mountain, all the while feeling burned alive from the inside.
At last, the entrance stood there before us. It had an arching manner of construction, clearly weathered over the eons it had been standing there. A pungent odour was momentarily emanated, a thing I should have perceived as an omen. Peter himself was disgusted, but dragged me on gently. From his backpack, he extruded a flashlight. Its illuminating power was strikingly great. We walked into the jaws of the cave, our eyes wide open scouts.
Surprisingly, it was not pitch black in there, thanks to the flashlight. From stories I heard, caves were intensely sombre places where, even with the aid of a torch or other artificial light, the darkness was oppressive and prevalent. Traditionally, this evoked the inevitable claustrophobia within each of us. Truly, it was my turn. Despite Peter's tangible presence, it felt like walls were closing in on me, crushing me as my former years have. Fleetingly, I was deploring the moment I acquiesced to Peter's invitation, but I was helpless, and he was a token of so-called safety. We heard voices sounding through thin air, croaks and other animal-like cries. I nearly shrieked once, but Peter calmed me down.
At length, his flashlight pointed to several, convoluted crevices on the cave's walls. From them came a sharp scent that I found terribly sickening. Peter, on the other hand, showed no conspicuous manner of disgust, but rather approached. At that closer distance, he saw a pattern of a certain liquid dribbling down from the cracked holes. He said it might have been some creature's urine, probably a bat's. Well, so far in our exploration, I did not detect any sign of bats. I heard sounds, but they were not the sounds of bats, for sure. I wondered whether it was a nocturnal, secluded mammal that lived there. As I made my silent conjectures, holding the flashlight, I saw Peter collect a sample of the assumed urine, using a suction tube or other device whose proper name I know not. He then injected it into a small test-tube, roughly half an inch in diameter.
From there, we walked away hastily, sensing that dusk was imminent. We tried to trace our pathway to the cave's entrance, when a most unexpected thing happened. Peter screamed from the bottom of his lungs, but all I felt was a razor-sharp object slit my throat open.
I died….
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