Landan Reimer Landan Reimer
Recommendations: 5

in the beginning half of the paragraph, you say you hit bone and continue. the way its phrased makes me think you make it through the bone, then later you mention going into bone again. maybe its just me, but it feels oddly worded

Jason Dookeran Jason Dookeran
Recommendations: 12

Fixed, thanks for catching that :)

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Jason Dookeran Jason Dookeran
Recommendations: 12


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I think I left my creepiness in my other pair of pants.

Cold. So cold. His breath misted out in front of him with every exhalation. Outside the small lean to he was currently occupying, the wind howled with the voice of a hundred wolves. The shelter was doing well to keep him up, but he was starving and he could feel his brain start to grow logy and dumb. It had been days maybe; he couldn't tell on this cold rock in the middle of nowhere. The others had disappeared in the snow and he had been wandering around until his food ran out.

Now he could feel his extremities getting colder and colder. He could barely operate his fingers now. He looked down at them and tried to move them. They responded, but only so much. It wouldn't be long before he would lose all movement in them. His foot was already frozen stiff; he could feel the deathly chill creeping its way up his leg, clawing at him like some primordial insect at its prey.

Hours ago his leg had started burning, as if being scalded. It seared the very flesh and nerves inside his leg and made him wince in pain. Suddenly the burning had stopped and he had felt nothing else from his limb. The only reason he knew his leg was still there was because he could see it. He touched his appendage but all he felt was a cold, dead thing; not even the warmth of his fingers registered.

A thought occurred, and before he could chicken out of it, he lashed a cord of nylon around his upper leg and pulled it taut, tying off his leg from just above his thigh. He had heard stories of men dying from gangrene from frostbitten limbs. He would survive goddamnit. He hacked into the leg once, twice, three times, cutting deeper and deeper into his body, the axe making a dull thud as it sank into his flesh. The blood was spurting out of the wound and making the handle of his axe slippery. He swung it down again and slammed the sharp, metal blade into his bone. His scream echoed around the darkness before being swallowed up by the wind. 2 comments

As he laid there, the axe half-buried in his leg, his lifeblood spurting out into a pool around him, he whispered, "I will survive, goddamnit.”

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