Attrition (extract)

The rain drummed hard on the granite and trees above his head. Each drop eroded at his nerves, a howling wind would occasionally tear into his sanctuary, making him shiver in genuine agony. The fire had gone out four times already that night and his hands were too numb to relight it a fifth time. Barely audible above natures roar, his stomach knotted itself and screamed for food. But there was none.

The boy who now had no name muttered to the hallucinations of his loved ones as they surrounded the meagre fire. Even in his hungry, sleep deprived and love starved state, they ignored him and preferred to talk amongst themselves about the weather and what Mavis from 97 had done with her cat. His love sat furthest away from him, her eyes filled with tears, he reached out to her, desperate for some contact. But she turned away and hid behind her immaculate hair. He wept. Over the storm he reigned insults down on anyone and everyone that had wronged him in his life, whether they were truly guilty or not was irrelevant. He could feel it creeping up on him, like a Tiger in the jungle. The insanity. The madness. He wanted to be home, he longed for the acrid air of his hometown, he craved the stupendous insults that he had received while living there. He wanted out.

One by one the visions of his family, friend and former lover fizzled out of existence. Leaving him with nothing but the choking smoke of the fire, and the laughing rain. In the forest below birds caww-ed their goodnights to one another. Next to him sat his battered mobile phone, the battery had run out many months ago, but he still kept it with him at all times. The final keepsake of a society he’d burnt too many bridges for.

He’d only been in this particular cave for 3 days, yet it already felt like a fourth home. From the roof above a tiny drop of water aimed itself at the back of his neck, and with sadistic glee it threw itself down onto him. The shock woke him from his semi-trance and he squirmed in terror at the unknown coldness that had come over him. During the movements his latest pair of pants tore themselves on the bedrock of his home. It was only when he felt the cold snap of the air tear into his skin and drop the temperature of his buttocks to below comfortable, did he realise what had happened. This made him weep more.

In the forest below several birds took flight, squawking in outrage. He looked up from his self indulgent sorrow and eyed the mouth of the cave with suspicion. Then he heard the cracks of twigs, and the rumble of rocks being sent tumbling down the side of the valley. Something was coming towards him. Even with the storm practicing the drums above him, he could hear the distinctive noise of something approaching him.

But there was something else in the mix. Along with the unmistakable sound of footsteps on the rocky slope he was sure he heard the sound of something being dragged. Something heavy. Weakly he reached for the nearest heavy rock, he was barely able to lift it. But feeling the cold roughness of the stone in his trembling hands comforted him, even as the sound grew dangerously near, and a shadow began to creep its way along the cave wall towards him.