The Secrets Of The Old Tomb

2nd Chapter: Kill

It was an open, unfine afternoon that appeared after. Confusing. Satisfying negative outcomes swirled inside my spinning head. Hands suddenly clenched the grass below them. My cheek was pressed against the wet grasses and leaves and some broken tiny twigs. There was an earthy scent after what looked like small rainfalls, and it was unpleasant to my nose. I eagerly wanted to remove my nose if I could have a dagger or something sharp that could help so.

My eyes were seeing blurry green images as I attempted to open them and lay on my back. Few fresh, standing twigs crackled while my back broke them and compressed them onto the earth. Droplets of cool water from the small plants above my head dripped down my face. Raging plants that needed to be plucked aggressively. I blinked a thousand times to clear the blurriness in my sight. And there was nothing I could see than the green leaves of tall trees from the very above. Vast skies and white clouds were hard to see, but there were rays of sunlight that passed through the tiny spaces on the ceiling of leaves, giving dim brightness inside the house of trees. I wandered my eyes around while still lying on the broken twigs that seemed and felt like piercing on my back skin already and wet grasses. It didn’t take a while to understand that I was buried in the wild plants and grasses.

I just knew it was afternoon already in spite of seeing the broad leaves that covered the skies. No one had ever told me. I was alone.

When there was much pain in my back already, probably due to the bed of twigs I was lying on, I propelled myself off the ground of leaves and dead twigs with the support of my two palms and arms, still clenching whatever my hands had caught. I felt intense revenge, and fury, and I desired to take someone’s life to fill myself with the happiness I was suddenly craving. The soon I lifted my hands off from the grassy earth, I plucked and kicked grasses of plants with my very hostile manner and blaring scream. My bare hands started to bleed, and that was where I stopped, for I knew I had to use them for something better than ugly plants. Breathes were deep, like an angry lion. I could kill someone if I could see a figure like me.

Out of the moment, a couple of steps behind where I was afore, I flew to the air after something hard and strong thing wrapped my hips. I fell on my chest and caused my breathing delayed for a few seconds. When gravity pulled me down, I looked around at what attacked me. There at my front, I saw it. The moose lifted its front hooves, preparing to stomp on me. Anger. But I managed to roll my body away from it before its first hoof reached either the ground or my body. Yet the moose’s moves were much quicker than mine, and so I stand up before I get hit by its hooves. There was no chance to prepare my stance to fight the aggressive moose. It already thrust its giant antlers at me, but, luckily, I caught them with my hands, and I tried to push it down. Of course, it was stronger than me, as it could walk at its usual pace as if I was not trying to control his antlers. I looked through his raging eyes, and then, a moment later, it swung his head from left to right. Because the antlers I was holding into were quite slippery, I flew a metre away from the moose. It really had a powerful body, but I wanted to kill it anyway. I wanted to see its blood pouring out of its neck or on any parts of its body.

The hostile moose was running towards me yet, I did not have the gut to run away from it. In lieu, I wanted to face it and break its head into small pieces. But I was too weak for it. I travelled again through the air when its antlers hit me like I was a soccer ball. My body knocked on the solid, big tree, giving me a very, very ache in every part of me. And that was where I decided to run away. And so I ran away, catching breath, for it was taken from me on the moose’s attack. Right hand on my stomach.

I could hear its hooves after me. It was chasing me. It had a plan to kill me, like how I wanted to kill it for no reason at all.

Abhorring the decision to run rather than kill the aggressive animal, I suddenly wanted to kill myself. I felt like I was a failure to be weak in front of the moose. More anger started arousing at that point. Then, absentmindedly, I halted and faced my back. I was in desperate need of air. My muscles, which were weakening and trembling before, gained power, and so I stood confidently, like a reality-game fighter. I was staring at the running moose. Wow, everything that its hooves touched on the ground flew on its tail, similar to the smoke that the camel forms when sprinting in the middle of the desert.

While the image of the belligerent moose was getting bigger in my eyes, I prepared myself to dodge and let it crash itself to lose some of its unmatching strength. The sound it was creating was getting more alive in my ears.

Until, so unforeseen that I did not think of it in a second, fully ready to kill the approaching hostile animal, without seeing it coming or hearing its high pitch whistle and piping, two massive yellowish claws locked on my shoulders, and I was lifted from the ground, having zero chance on killing my first enemy: the aggressive moose. I was astounded by the eagle’s strength that it managed to carry me high enough – higher than trees, from the ground as though I was a helpless squirrel. I never stopped shrieking in rage while I was in the air, greedily helping myself to get free from those painful sharp claws. The second thing I discerned while in the cold air was my palpitating heart. Apparently, it would not cease to its abnormal state. I mean, getting flown unexpectedly by an animal was terrifying. Nervousity was similar to a world-threatening plague: it rolled out all over my body in a quick second. Yet it didn’t last long. By the time this eagle took me from the solid ground, I marked it as my second enemy to assassinate.

I was surprised that I wasn’t cursing while shrieking. Normally, I would. Those shrieks were my shrieks of pain and anger. There was a reason that it was also because of fear, but the fear was so minimal to consider as a reason. Fear was not really tailing me above here as we get higher.

I could not fight the mighty eagle’s claw and wings. I was beginning to think again that I was as weak as the moose’s enemy. And I hated that thought coming inside my head.

Without doing serious harm to myself after landfall, I thought of a way to free myself from the apparently hungry eagle. I tried to look at it. Not so clear enough, but I saw its eyes look back at me and again made its long, high-pitched call as if it was saying something rude or threatening to me. I wasn’t distinctly paying attention to it, but I saw how the breeze passed through its ugly and deserving-to-pluck-until-none-was-left feathers. We were really high. Insanely high. And I couldn’t let this damn winged creature get any higher, so as faster as its flapping huge wings, I seized one of its wings and attempted to fold it in half opposite to where it naturally folds. After a quick second, the flight was out of balance. My second enemy was struggling to keep us in the air. I felt we were falling. We were but slowly, and I was not so concerned regarding it. Actually, it was now out of my head if I were to fall and die. All I knew was I had to kill this bird of prey. The eagle let out a sound of pain, to which I enjoyed for a short moment, and hungering for more, I grabbed another of its wings and did the very same thing all while enduring the excruciating pain it gave to my shoulders from its massive, sharp claws.

It was quite annoying when I was not able to hurt the eagle’s second wing enough as I did to its first one, but it still sped up the falling. My two bare hands were still on its wings, tightly locking them to make sure they would not flap again. And breaking them too. Not too long enough after I caught its second wing, the raging and in-pain eagle gave away its claws and dropped me from dangerously metres high. I never felt contented that it finally let go of me, knowing that it still breathe air.

But there was nothing more I could do than just wait for my body to hit the ground. I wasn’t afraid anymore. There was just anger. Extreme, volcanic anger. My body might be able to wave and roll in the air while on the way down, which took my clear and focused vision, but I saw the eagle falling too and fighting. Not fighting for its own dear life. It was fighting to maintain its body in the air while it was on its way to me. Its scaleds and talons were positioned ready at its front. Its beak was opened, and though hating to hear it, another of its call echoed.

It did not get me eventually as I hit the first human-sized branch from a certain tree whilst I’d love to if that only gave me a chance to finish what I started on its wings. Then I hit another branch, bigger this time, and my back was the one that took the pain. Then again. And again. With every knock, the tree branch got muscled and steady. The only thing that never went changed was the rustling as my body made contact with the tree’s leaves. And the sound of the breaking twigs too.

The moment I faced off the ground, I could hardly feel my body for a mere second. Next, there it was. Millions of tiny, scorching needles were gradually piercing through every pore on my body. One small move and it was a billion times worst. I never had this kind of pain. As well as scorching needles, there was also this feeling that something or someone was literally turning my insides out, and I could not help but let them be. It was the most horrible pain that my body ever had yet.

I let my body rest for a few seconds more. Wonderfully uninteresting, it was the first time that I had slight pity for myself. And then, the ringing call of the eagle came back to my ears merely not a minute passed after I torturously travelled from hell above to hell below. The fall might have been the cause of damaging my ears because I heard another echo of an eagle after the first echo. Just as not finishing myself thrusting up into a sitting position, and Kweekkk!, two angry eagles came right in front of me abruptly: one with the bone wings I fractured crashed nearly above my head and another freshly unhurt, big one that began attempting to snatch a part of me that could fit into its two claws while it never stopped waving its wings. It was also trying to bite me without ceasing the sound it naturally made from its throat. A throat that I wanted to slit.

I supposed my ears were all working well when I heard another voice of an eagle. It was unexpected to see the unshaped eagle with a company. Perhaps it called a company to finish me. But I was not bothered. Although in great pain, I knew I could kill these two. Whatever I wanted since my eyes opened was what I was most desperate for; Killing.

More minor scratches began to appear on my forearms. Some were on my face and stomach. I was fighting the scatheless eagle poorly while my back did not have a chance to straight up vertically. I punched, but its agility was something that I did not have. I tried grabbing its wings, but every time I got it, its talons would pierce deeply into my skin. Whenever I aimed for the eagle’s claws and had them already in my hands, its beak would always attack my head, preferably my eyes. Winning over an eagle on land was way more unbearable than on air.

The eagle attacked me and defended itself more than I did. I thought I was going crazy, but it felt like it was getting stronger as it constantly took more of my blood out of my veins. I very well knew it was. There was even a point where it finally managed to pull me off from the ground even though only one of the eagle’s claws was locked on my wrist for a short moment.

When time paired with me and my strength relive, despite the brutality of the eagle’s talons and claws, I had its neck. The crackles that my hand felt and my ears heard along with the eagle’s crushed voice in extreme pain were the things that made me feel powerful and relieved yet wanting for more. Of course, it flapped its wings and used its strength and claws in a mere hope to get out of my grip, but with every blood the eagle took from me, I told myself no more. I was gritting my teeth and making unlikeable noises like a psycho-maniac as I joined my second hand with the first one and tightly blocked the eagle’s air tube just like that while happily waving it in the air until it struggled not and it no longer gave oxygen. It did not take two minutes or longer, but I was blissful. Contended. And thrilled to do it again. But I felt a slight eccentricity too.

Nearby was a sound of leaves whispering endlessly to each other. I, unfortunately for the unlucky eagle that was still on my hands, unfreed, was the only one who could hear the rustles. I knew what it was before now: the eagle that dragged me up to the air above. The same eagle that I mercilessly crushed the wings. The same eagle that nearly crashed on my head not a little while ago.

I turned at it, still on hand the first eagle I managed to kill, thinking of it as my first championship trophy. I felt like I was celebrating with it, but when I caught sight of the eagle on the bush, wrestling, I realized celebrating was too soon; I had another trophy. A strong branch was punctured through the nonpoor eagle’s right pectoral muscle. The tip of the branch was dripping in red, and the eagle’s left wing flapped weakly compared to before. It was looking at me fiercely, screeching long abomination in what I felt its utmost anger and pain. Without hesitation and a second more subsequent turning at it, I seized its head firmly, while my other hand didn’t want to let go of the first breathless eagle. Then, in an evident absence of helping it get off the branch, I suddenly launched it into the air without losing my grip on its head and struck the eagle on the ground as hard as I could. It squawked. And I did again. Another sound of agony. And I smashed it again to the ground. Then again. Then for another ten times more with rage and craving. Until it became a doll – a hideous, uncleaned feathered, red-spot-everywhere doll. I was laughing the whole time, as I said, like a maniac. And this laugh went super hysterical when I lifted the two freshly dead eagles into the air, feeling the power in my veins. I was in an ecstatic state.

Yet it was not for too long.

Amidst my victorious celebration, I suddenly sensed something from afar. Alive, with a vigorous heart. It was speeding. I felt it and knew it. I was never capable of having or doing this before, but I just did it while holding two large birds of prey amid the air. And it was not just one: it was three from different directions, about to meet at one very spot.

With all pain and the throbbing wounds that seemed to heal themselves, as my brain did not remind me of them anymore, I let my two magnificent red trophies lay down on the ground and headed forward. Like the mighty eagles’ agilities in the air, I was an eagle on land.

Leaves and twigs hit my face and exposed skin, damaging them too, but I was not bothered. Not even the noises it made. I was running fast, thinking I had to take those three living hearts. And the longer I took on my way, the more I sensed them getting closer. They were much stronger and fearless than those two claw-wy eagles or the hostile moose. And much smarter, too, as me. Yet that did not scare me at all. I remained at my pace and my speed forward, without regression. I was positive I was having three trophies that were a more valuable and deserving true celebration for triumphant than those two now-unmighty eagles. All I needed was to take over their breath and make sure mine was still severely unharmed.

Next, I stopped instantly. And the sound of my footsteps on the grassy ground as it died was not the only thing I heard. Similar noises were here too.