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A Pest's Journey Through Fear"
Underneath a decaying, damp tree trunk, the night raindrops fell with increasing intensity. Amidst the heavy downpour, only silence enveloped Roachman. His surroundings were limited to the glistening splashes illuminated by the ethereal moonlight. The restless rhythm of each droplet resonated within Roachman, penetrating even the deepest layers of his sleep. In his dreams, he envisioned another world—one where he could grow older alongside his mother, play with friends in the park, and sniff in the warm breeze of Sunday afternoons.
Suddenly, a deafening crackle shattered the silence as lightning struck a neighboring tree, causing it to collapse with a resounding crash. Roachman broke awake, his face pale and confused, bracing himself for the worst. But nothing came. Minutes stretched into hours, yet only intermittent drops persisted. Attempting to settle back into sleep, Roachman yearned for the rest necessary to endure the challenges of another long day. However, his senses remained on high alert, his mind racing, and his heart pounding. Sleep eluded him tonight; he was too afraid to close his eyes, leaving himself vulnerable. Dark thoughts invaded his mind as nostalgia mingled with panic, unraveling his train of thought. There was no hope on the horizon for Roachman until daylight emerged. Yet, he found safety in the confines of his lonely mind—a sanctuary safer than the dark, damp forest.
With the first rays of dawn, Roachman, still wide awake, was consumed by an excruciating thirst, aggravated by the proximity of a freshwater puddle just a few meters away. However, he couldn't risk venturing out of his safe haven, even for a sip of crystal-clear rainwater. The thirst played him relentlessly, teasing him with its proximity.
In the early light, Roachman felt a sense of security, allowing confidence to lull him into a trance-like state. His weary thirst overpowered his caution, compelling him to seize the opportunity. Abruptly, a series of ominous crashes resonated from the distance as towering forest trees tumbled one after another, converging upon Roachman. The beast approached—a dark, spiky visage, blood-red eyes, and jagged, razor-like teeth. It was his final vision. Frozen in a moment of terror, he was violently torn apart, his fragile form tossed aside like a discarded ragdoll. In his fleeting moment of consciousness, his face buried in the mud, he bid a silent farewell to this cruel world. His body lay unrecognizable—missing limbs, turned inside out—a grotesque mess coated in dirt and blood. The beast would not even deign to feast upon him, for Roachman's kind was deemed nothing more than a pest.
-your loving karim.
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