Just Ignore Them (JITTER)

He knew safety was beckoning him with a warm embrace when the sunlight beamed onto his face. He had made it through the night. Freezing and shaking solemnly, he sat upright and dragged himself to the strongest ray of sunlight around himself. He lay there, shaken but still. Nothing but horror filled his mind, and his imagination went into overdrive. Shadows feigned existence in each corner of his eyes, but with each look, they submitted before reality.

”Am I just losing my mind? ”

He pondered this for some time. It would explain almost everything, but in such a situation, not much could be done. He could not simply take medication, nor could he speak to a psychiatrist. He had himself, and himself only. Until his escape, he can merely try to survive.

Prying himself from the ground with great difficulty, he stood on trembling legs and took multiple deep breaths in. He had willingly neglected to leave his blanket in the hole tonight, as the sunlight would purify and evaporate the sweat and urine that glazed his sleeping quarters.

He began to hobble listlessly through the cavern, in an attempt to both check his bait and convince himself he was merely losing his mind. Shadows crept around his vision, but he did not have the gall to look. Not wanting to know, he tried his best to ignore his sight, relying entirely on his instincts to survive.

Despite the situation, and to his surprise, while he was checking the northern and eastern baits, a single roach was nesting at both spots. Catching them without issue, he dispatched them and wrapped them. At the same time, he fashioned together another set of lures before placing them in their previous locations.

He took the time to attempt to relight his meagre fire. Within hours, he had successfully beckoned flame once more, but this time, not even pride could be felt. He was void of anything but terror.

Cooking and eating the roaches, he was once more satisfied with the quality of the bugs available. He began organising the area surrounding his bed. He moved his collection of stones to one designated area. He then began preparing to head into the dark once more. He would somehow manage to brave the unknown, he was sure of it.

However, it was at that time his stomach began to churn and bile began to rise steadily in the back of his throat. He went over to his rudimentary toilet and rapidly dug a hole to the right of it. He suspended himself over the hole and felt saliva drip from his mouth. At this moment, he threw up. Over and over. Nothing but ferocious acid was expelled. It was difficult for the boy to garner a single breath while the onslaught of puke exited his body. And it only got worse. As more and more acid wreaked havoc in his throat, it became harder to breathe, and the pain only grew more severe.

Crisis mode was in full effect for the boy. Frustrated and in excruciating pain, he reviewed the information he had about cockroaches, in an attempt to find the cause of his nausea. He was furious with himself that he had made such as mistake. He just did not know what said mistake currently was.

Minutes later, he was still crouched carefully over his new pit, spluttering and weeping. The pit stunk and the smell pierced his eyes.

”Cockroaches eat both plant and animal matter, could one of them have eaten something that cause me to fall ill? Unless… ”

The thought appeared as he was staring down into the swamp of waste below himself. Carefully checking around the other waste hole with his eyes, he saw minuscule imprints scarcely placed on the ground, leading bravely down to the toilet where he had relieved himself the day prior.

”They ate my shit. Then I ate them. So more than likely, I … ate my shit. ”

The mere thought was powerful enough to make his jaw quake. Within seconds, he was throwing up once more, seemingly without end. Tearing, his throat was barely handling the invasion of corrosive acid being discharged violently from his mouth.

Sometime later, he sat next to the waste holes. Chunks of strained moss were heaped behind him; he had greedily drained a vast quantity of moss. But, without it, he dared not think about the consequences of not having it, he was sure he would have died. He sat still on the dirt for minutes, waiting for anything else to exit. Nothing happened, but his stomach rumbled and churned even still.

He did not dare to even attempt to eat again. Not until he had solved this seemingly impossible puzzle of how to not contaminate his only food source with his excrement.

A singular idea was all that made itself known to the boy. Burning shit. The issue at hand was that faeces were not dry, and could not burn. So, instead, he attempted an experiment. Staggering around, he was looking for a large rock that would service his need. Not a single thing matching his specifications was found, so instead, he decided to improvise.

He spotted a thin, medium-sized stone of around eighty centimetres in both length and width, and hoisted it onto his shoulder with a great degree of difficulty. Going north, he found a much larger stone that was entirely stationary. With both hands behind his stone over his shoulder, and with every fibre of strength he could muster, he embarrassingly threw the stone into the larger of the two.

Accompanied by the spitting of small stones, the thrown stone shattered into eight pieces of varying sizes. Collecting all pieces, he hauled them to his camp and his theory could now be tested. He dubbed the experiment; Sun-dried shit.

He began carefully scooping his expelled waste from the waste hole onto the largest of the newly acquired, previously shattered, stones. The boy then placed the stone directly beneath the light, propped up by the other two pieces of broken stone.

The waste-covered slate was held up by two other pieces of slate stuck in the dirt and ground. Late into the estimated afternoon, he inspected the waste.

Appearing darker in colour and dry, he was happy with the result. Happy with the result, he grabbed the slate, and holding one end, let the waste roll into the fire. He now had a designated waste stone. From holes to stones, he chuckled to himself while watching his waste crackle and pop.

Darker smoke began to rise, causing him further worry. However, it did not last long. The fumes returned to their usual hue, but the smell was the furthest thing from pleasant. It invaded his nostrils and made his stomach retract and strain. Running, he had barely made it to his sick hole before more bile began erupting from his body.

Returning to the fire, he watched the waste slowly darken and burn. It was at this time he had an idea when he noticed the faeces were made flammable by the sun. He may finally be able to banish the night. Such a thought was enough to bring hope. The dream of banishing the dark was all he wanted and needed, and as it turns out, his own body held the answer.

But for the time being, his task was to dispose of his vomit. For this, he needed both luck and a very strong stomach. One of which he did not have, so he took to plugging his nose with two leaves.

He poured dirt into his hole, and with a smaller, longer stone began to mix the two. Similar to making dough, the mixture clung together and over time, formed a compiled but structured mixture. It was going well until the boy breathed in deeply. The smell assaulted his nostrils and he threw up once more. Sighing, he continued mixing until the concoction was growing more solid than liquid.

Scooping the mixture up with his waste stone and filling the now empty hole with dirt, he left the waste stone once more to bask in the sun. He felt that this may need to be left overnight, so he did not return to it until the morning.

Before preparing for sleep, he took the time to address an issue he had experienced the night before. Taking a small patch of moss, he wet his hands and began pressing his hand into the surfaces of the hole. Which in turn, packed and compressed the dirt and made the hole both secure and stable. After ensuring the body of the hole was far more stable; he began arranging leaves in the hole around the sides. This was done for two reasons. One, was so that it would be far more comfortable in future. And the second, was so it would be easier to clean in future.

He lay in his bed dazedly staring at the ceiling. Worrying aside, tonight, he had a new plan. He was going to look upwards, and only upwards. Looking at the walls gave the body to his hallucinations, and the fire enabled them further. Putting out the fire would solve this issue, but he could not will himself to do so. He would prefer light to dark, for what you cannot see is more of a danger than what you can.

Hours flew by, and not once did he move his head. His eyes were locked upward, and that was the way they would stay. The sounds of the fire hissed and crackled steadily.

The boy may appear to be holding himself together, but that was the furthest thing from the truth. Under the covers, his skin crawled and his knees shook. He needed sleep. His body groaned and was still in turbulence from the food he had consumed. There was no hope for tonight, there was only desperation for survival.

The night passed by without issue. Seemingly.

Unbeknownst to the boy, as he lay there, more eyes watched him sleep. Dozens of eyes inspected every inch of his sleeping body. Their eyes watered and the desperation in their eyes was palpable. Hearing the boy breathe only grew their appetite, yet still, they could not move.

Awakening to light scattering around himself, the boy could not help but feel glee. Once more, he had made it. He was further convinced that he had persistent hallucinations, and sleep was all that he needed.

With a small spring in his step, he did his daily activities. These consisted of gathering roaches, rebaiting, and drinking water from straining moss. This was hastily followed by drying the moss and using it to relight his fire.

The boy then began cooking and eating a single roach that he had collected using his baits. He finally threw the sick concoction from the day before onto the fire before once more using his waste plate to expel the waste accumulating within himself.

As the newer waste was drying steadily in the sun, he began his new plan to banish the darkness, to confine it to the furthest reaches of the cavern.

He scoured the cavern for a certain stone with a particular dimension. Something long. Without success, he turned his attention to his ceiling. Long and jagged stalactites hung dangerously above, almost promising a swift death to all who disturb their slumber. But instead of danger, the boy saw an opportunity.

Taking a palm-sized stone, he aimed for a large, five-hundred-centimetre stalactite hanging hazardously ahead of himself. He proceeded to toss the stone at the formation, the stone fell weakly under the target, disappearing quickly into the darkness. He sighed internally before picking up a smaller stone near his foot. Another throw equated to another miss.

He clenched his jaw and proceeded to pick up the third stone beside himself. This stone was around the size of a marble, the perfect projectile. By overarm throwing, the stone hit the stalactite squarely and dislodged the structure. It quickly crashed into the slate beneath, before shattering into merely dust and pieces. The stalactite broke into a wide variety of pieces, yet some fragments were perfectly suitable for his needs. Bending down, he selected a thicker fragment of around one hundred centimetres in length. He also collected his winning projectile. He pocketed the marble-sized stone and took the shard back to camp.

The boy estimated that it was around afternoon, as the sunlight waned and weakened. He did not have a lot of time.

The fragment of stalactite was laid carefully on the ground. Using the remaining fabric strip he acquired a few days prior; next, he wrapped the thicker end of the shard over and over. He finished the wrap with a neat knot. He was pleasantly surprised by how dexterous his hands were, as the stalactite piece was seemingly, extremely brittle.

Following the success of his wrapping, he took the piece over to the dried waste and started smearing the wrapped end with his dried faeces, until it was plastered in the dried material. To finalise his plan, he held the makeshift torch over his campfire.

The fabric caught alight first, the dried material following soon after. He held the torch upright to test its construction. It held together, and blazed irregularly before coughing and burning soft and steadily.

”Success! ”

His voice oozed with both lunacy and satisfaction. The juxtaposition of the two perfectly assimilates the mental state of the young boy.

He proudly walked around the cavern with his torch paving the way. He felt unstoppable at this moment. He illuminated even the darkest reaches of the cavern, while in his mind, charting his travels.

He found stones of various sizes and shapes, before finding something even more pleasant.

There was dirt on the ground. Not ground-breaking, but the properties of that dirt were what excited the boy.

That dirt was different, it bolstered a pale-yellow hue and quickly became the most urgent task currently in this cavern for him, but he would need to return to this later as the sunlight appeared to be waning. Estimating quickly, he knew that night was coming and he needed to finish exploring. A few minutes passed and nothing new was found, he returned with his hands empty, but with his heart full of hope.

By the time he had returned to camp, the torch began to flicker. He decided to plunge the starving flame into a mound of loose dirt, which effectively snuffed it out by starving the flame of oxygen. He was able to relight the torch with more waste the following day, but he needed to keep the fabric tip intact as the fabric was not expendable in his situation.

Laying in his ground cradle, he once more stared at the ceiling, wishing for another peaceful night.

Today had been a good day for him.

But this night would fare differently, not even the boy could have expected what would transpire this night, not even in his wildest imagination.

Night arrived steadily, but the campfire was persistent. Even while the chilling clutch of night invaded the cavern, the blazing fire happily gobbled up the fuel and stood tall in contempt for the night.

The boy felt his eyelids grow heavy, they threatened to droop. Serenity awaited, and dreams beckoned. But no such thing would happen tonight.

The slow sound of scratching beside his head made the boy sit up immediately. He swore to himself to not take his eyes off the ceiling, but the scratching had changed everything. The boy felt something touch his hair, and to his knowledge, hallucinations could not touch him.

His head spun from side to side and his eyes searched endlessly for the source of the noise. The world began to spin, but of course, there was not a thing to be found.

Until there was.

Once more, a dark figure presented itself on the southern wall, but instead of squirming in anguish and fear, the boy kept his eyes trained on the figure, waiting for the hallucination to disappear. He knew he needed confidence, but more importantly, he needed to be able to distinguish reality from imagination.

Sitting further upright and straightening his back, the boy did not back down.

However, despite the boy conquering his fears, the figure remained.

Rather, in a complete disregard for his show of strength, the figure seemed like it knew the truth and tilted its head in confusion. It almost knew that beneath the tough exterior, the boy was crumbling, fast. Every second that passed stirred doubt into his head, that it was there. That it was real. And that it was there to kill him.

The boy began to shake violently, and sweat began to course down his back, like rain pounding in the tropics.

The darkness inside the figure squirmed and swirled, before opening to slowly expose a new form. The light distorted and flickered wildly.

Light broke through the eyes and mouth region of the shadow, revealing an insincere smile within its head, expressing both friendliness and invitation. But the eyes told no lies.

Two eyes, devoid of anything but malice, entranced the boy into staring deeper. In its eyes, the boy felt pure and unrestrained evil. They felt as if they were waiting to devour up his entire existence. The boy felt that his breath was hijacked until his mind went blank.

Demons and devils, the boy remembers them vaguely. He was taught of both the devils and angels. But no evidence persisted for either of the two, that he could remember. He struggled to understand how without substantial proof, anything could exist within the world. Until he saw that smile.

Within that moment, nothing but dread registered within the young boy. His brain could not comprehend what his eyes were showing him, he refused to believe it. But his heart did not, and within seconds his heart seized and failed to pump. For a few just moments, he was dead.