Chapter 12: Cult of Hunger_The Empty Mirror

The Empty Mirror

Chapter 12: Cult of Hunger

Each step I took increased the cognitive horror, as if the forest itself delighted in torturing my mind and disturbing my senses. I advanced along a familiar path, but now shrouded in a heightened aura of enigma and lurking danger. As I went deeper, my stomach twisted with a subtle but unsettling ache.

It was a constant reminder of my desperate need for sustenance, but it also seemed to be a sinister echo of something deeper, something that lurked in the darker shadows of the environment. Fortunately, there was no one nearby to witness my physical and emotional torment, but shame lurked, even in the solitude of that cursed place. There was no one to be ashamed of, yet the fear of judgement and rejection lingered in my tormented mind.

The sun was rising with sinister parsimony over the horizon, its sombre glow scanning the dawn as I stood at the edge of the path. It seemed to be barely 7 a.m., but already I sensed that the inexorable flow of time was conspiring against me. A myriad of unfinished tasks were demanding my attention, like a horde of unsettling shadows waiting for their moment to lurk.

Nevertheless, I must confess that the night before had been a sleepless torment. My eyelids, once the guardians of my weary eyes, had surrendered under the weight of wakefulness. Though I fought a fierce battle for rest, sleep had refused to wrap me in its benevolent embrace. Nevertheless, I managed to extract from the dark depths of the night enough energy to face the challenges of the impending day.

With a monotonous stride, I entered the trail, located a scant 20 minutes away. Each stride seemed like a meaningless litany, a macabre ballet of incessant repetition. There was nothing that stood out on my path, no irregularity to attract my attention, just a sequence of perpetual boredom that threatened to devour my will.

However, it all metamorphosed in an ephemeral instant as I finally reached the path. I halted my progress and an unsettling doubt took hold of my mind, swinging like an ominous pendulum: what if what had happened the night before was just that, a fleeting manifestation destined never to be repeated?

The conception that it was merely an ephemeral glow, a flash of the unknown that vanished without a trace, gained strength and loomed as a plausible possibility. But the uncertainty faded quickly.

No sooner had I taken my first steps along the path, intent on keeping my attention sharp, than I sensed that something had mutated. In front of my eyes unfolded the lake I had seen the day before. The transition between the two places was smooth and subtle, as if the path had gradually dissipated to make way for this new abode. It was neither abrupt nor impressive in its manifestation.

Rather, it was a barely perceptible slippage, a transformation that only those gifted with unflappable attention or those alert to the changing subtleties of the environment could appreciate.

In the first instance, I was in dire straits, desperately hungry and yearning for sustenance. Yet the search presented itself as an enigma with no apparent solution, a labyrinth into which I wandered with perplexity.

However, like a gleam of revelation in the midst of the blackness, an unsuspected possibility manifested itself in my mind: the dried fruits. These tiny treasures of nature did not seem unattainable under certain circumstances, and their collection and adaptation as sustenance were not inordinately complicated undertakings. They could be eaten in their raw state without obvious risk. That lush, thick grove, in particular, offered promising prospects for discovering these prized viands.

With this ingrained in my mind, I decided to explore the surrounding undergrowth. I had no intention of leaving the area, so the possibility of encountering some deviation from the norm did not disturb me in the slightest. However, I must confess that this was only a hypothesis in which I was blindly confident, a reckless gamble on the precipice of ignorance.

Still, I was willing to plunge into the shadowy depths of this place, in search of answers that lurked in the abyss of uncertainty.

As I moved stealthily through the inhospitable realm, my fingers grasped at the exquisite fabric of my dress, tearing a fragment of fabric from the right sleeve. In this labyrinthine and hostile environment, every resource became scarce and precious, and I knew that this small fragment of fabric could be of use in future circumstances.

I continued my advance for a few minutes until, emerging from the mist, the imposing silhouette of the nearby oak trees loomed before my eyes. As I approached, the wind rustled through the leaves, intoning a melancholy lament and announcing the presence of what I ardently longed for: acorns, those cunningly hidden nuts that could satiate my insatiable appetite. These tiny botanical gems had all the necessary attributes to become my salvation in that desolate spot.

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The presence of several oak trees nearby made the task of gathering easier. Although I could already see some acorns scattered on the ground, I did not stop to contemplate them. An irrational impulse urged me to look for a sturdy branch, strong enough to shake the treetops and trigger a precipitation of acorns.

I tirelessly repeated the procedure, scrupulous at every step, collecting the acorns with exquisite precision and depositing them in the torn fabric of my dress. I had refined that cloth into a makeshift wrapper, making sure to hold it firmly in my hands. With skill and determination, I filled the wrapper with as many acorns as I could gather, knowing that the vast forest still harboured promising possibilities for more of the nuts I craved.

After the arduous task of gathering was done, I decided to return to the lake, a refuge that gave me some safety amidst the ominous atmosphere that enveloped the place. There, with meticulousness and discernment, I carefully examined each acorn, separating those that met the criteria of maturity, dryness and consistency suitable for consumption. I discarded those that were in poor condition or had not yet reached optimum maturity. Although the quantity was considerably reduced, the selected acorns were still a vital resource to meet the challenge I faced.

However, I could not ignore the inherent limitations of my rudimentary cloth sack, whose capacity was drastically constrained. I was acutely aware that its capacity to hold a considerable number of acorns was severely restricted, and this presented a challenge that I had to meet shrewdly. I recognised the barriers imposed by my own limitations and my lack of foresight in not having foreseen a more suitable means of transporting a larger quantity of these coveted fruits.

However, in this inhospitable environment, adaptability was the key to survival, and I was determined to overcome any adversity that dared to stand in my way. After a scrupulous selection of the most suitable acorns, I proceeded to deftly separate the wrappings from the fruits, but only those that were necessary to satisfy my immediate appetite. I made sure that I had a sufficient number of acorns to guarantee me stability for a specific period of time.

Meticulously and cautiously, I nestled the acorns into the heart of a nearby branch, making sure they were solidly anchored, ready to be used at the right moment, when hunger and need would clamour for sustenance.

The next step, inescapable in my journey, required the lighting of the dancing flame, but, in retrospect, I could discern my mistake. I should have anticipated the need for a campfire, foresightedly gathered the elements that would fan its flames.

However, I could not allow a stumble in the sequence of events to dampen my momentum. My survival lay in my ability to adapt and find solutions even in the most challenging and adverse moments. Undoubtedly, this act revealed my state of intrinsic perplexity, engendered by the enigmatic influence of this site.

With unwavering determination, with exquisite meticulousness, I gathered each of the pristine acorns and once again encased them in the wrapping. Making use of the branch that had taken hold, I ingeniously entwined a fragment of cloth, tenaciously securing it around the wood. And so, with heart throbbing in rapture, I ventured boldly once more into the abysmal depths of the forest, in pursuit of more resources for my restless purposes.

In the confusing boundary of that gloomy place, where my steps resonated like a sinister symphony in the ineffable silence that enveloped it, a complex question tangled its threads in the recesses of my thoughts: How many times is it necessary to traverse a path to abandon one project and embrace another? It was not, in my case, a resignation but rather a continuation...

Isn't that so? Although the words reverberated in my mind without reaching a defined clarity, my resolve remained unbroken. I was willing to undertake whatever was necessary, regardless of the horrors that might be hidden behind the veil of uncertainty.

Once again, I found myself immersed in the tangled embrace of the forest, my eyes eagerly scanning the shadows, anxious to discover the suitable branches for my unique purpose. The first task was to find a long and sturdy branch that would bend to my will. After meticulously examining various options, my gaze settled on a branch exuding deep and twisted darkness, with almost a meter of elevation and a diameter of three centimeters.

However, a single branch would not suffice to complete the sinister symphony I was orchestrating. I yearned for another, a companion in this twisted choreography. It didn't take long to materialize before my eyes, trained to discover beauty in the grotesque—a branch of more modest dimensions but equally evocative. With about forty-five centimeters in length and a diameter of barely a centimeter, its exquisitely vulnerable fragility made it the perfect choice for my ominous purposes.

Yet, I not only needed branches but also craved the complicity of stones in my macabre undertaking. My gaze remained unsettling, scrutinizing the ground for stones that could satisfy my insatiable needs. After an obsessive and exhaustive search, my trembling fingers finally seized a solid and resilient stone, exuding a coldness capable of sending shivers down my spine. Its flat and hard shape promised to be an ally in my macabre dance. However, destiny, with its malevolent wisdom, bestowed upon me not one but two stones, similar in appearance but different in essence. Each possessed its own hidden strength, ready to serve my sordid purpose.

With meticulous precision, I arranged the collected branches and stones, fully aware of the pressing need to find an improvised rope for my task. However, in that isolated corner, the prospect of obtaining a conventional rope faded into the unfathomable blackness of the abyss. At that moment, a revelation materialized in my psyche: the bark of a tree could be the solution to my dilemma. With firm steps and a discerning gaze, I delved into exploring the surroundings, evaluating with sagacity which of the trees would offer the ideal bark for my purpose.

After covering a short distance, I stood before a vegetal colossus, a prodigious arboreal marvel defying logic as it ascended to the unfathomable heights of the firmament, easily surpassing twenty meters in height. Approaching cautiously, feeling the weight of its imposing presence, I used one of the collected stones to meticulously detach a portion of its bark, without prejudicing the tree that seemed to harbor ancient secrets.

The forest's dimness made it challenging to ascertain which of the stones had been chosen for such a delicate task; both seemed to merge into an ancestral enigma. Though disconcerting, I persisted in my endeavor, and after a prolonged wait, I managed to obtain a thin strip of bark, approximately two inches wide and three feet in length. It was a strip of extraordinary solidity, carrying an unusual strength that seemed to vibrate in harmony with a primordial energy.

Fully satisfied with my collection, I returned to the lakeshore, carrying my findings with reverential respect and growing unease. Once again, I found myself compelled to bid farewell to my precious materials in that solitary place, unable to take them with me. I deposited them with utmost care near a tree of singular magnificence, trusting in its protection, although an ominous shadow loomed in the deepest recesses of my being.

Chapter 12: Cult of Hunger

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