Boiling Broth

Growl… My stomach was sending a distress call to my system, prompting me to eat or to have a sip of water after two days and two nights without the basic necessities. I was out of resource when my village was pummeled into dust after the devastating hydrogen bomb drop.

The resurgence was near nil, I was one of the survivors of the blast, who marched out of the vicinity in the hopes of finding a new land to live on. However, things were not as planned, days were spent marching in the wilderness, waiting to be the prey for certain animals of the jungle.

A fragrant, meaty smell caressed the sensory nerves in my nose, I followed the stimulant, forgotten about the hunger and thirst, craving for the new found source of energy. It brought me to a dilapidated hut out of nowhere, I pushed open the door, it was empty, only a singular pot stood in the smouldering coal fire in the middle of the hut.

I steadily paced my way through the ground, nothing was too much to bother my hungry and thirsty mind. Flipping open the lid of the pot, I saw a blood red broth, and a few misshapen lumps of meat, and white balls swirling in the pot. Anything was irresistible to me, I dipped my pointer into the broth, Hot! I pulled it out instantaneously, and tasted the broth, bloody. Something was dead wrong.

As I turned my back, a violent push sent me into the broth, I screamed, it was too late, the lid was covered with force, the boiling water was scorching my skin bit by bit, I was being cooked in the pot, the carcasses of the mishap was circling soullessly in the broth, red was the final colour that I had witness, sweltering pain was the premonition from hell, burned to death, my last breath in a boiling broth after two days and two nights without food and water.


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Perennial Loop
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Published by zeckrombryan

Hope. Joy. Feelings cloaked as words.

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