The Many Lives of Mortimer Matthews

So there Mortimer was, stuck in a forest which had just demonstrated a startlingly original take on astrophysics, and it was going dark. How utterly annoying.

Now due to the unorthodox nature of causality when affected by large quantities of Forbodium (an antireality isotope which is present in huge quantities in many universes), there are several phrases which it would be incredibly unwise to utter in Mortimer's place. One of these, for instance, is "this couldn't get any worse." Another is "at least there aren't any wolves around." Being an extramultiversal entity as I am, of course, I can safely say it.

"Well," Mortimer said as he ignored the very wise words uttered a few seconds earlier, "at least there aren't any wolves around."

This release of sonic energy kicked into overdrive the reaction between the fabric of reality and the high concentration of Forbodium in the surrounding area, playing merry hob with the intricate nexus of mystical energy that binds all living things together. Or something like that. I don't have a degree in hypercience, what do I know? What I do know, however, is that it summoned...

Oh, you'll figure it out.

And in the distance, a wolf began to howl.

"O...kay," said Mortimer to himself, as he often did. "I should probably find some shelter. A cave or something. Maybe avoid those wolves, too."

Quickly observing the lack of information in regards to the location of a handy cave (signposts are hard to come by in the forest), he picked a random direction away from the pond and began walking. The lack of sun was really quite noticeable now and several times had the dreaded bramble patch struck, vicious beast that it was. It was almost enough to make a body stop walking and start moving a little faster.

Considerably closer than in the distance, quite a few wolves howled. Now that was most definitely enough to make a body stop walking and start moving a lot faster. Mortimer started running.

He could hear them behind him now, their footsteps (or pawsteps - they're wolves, aren't they?) getting louder. Their panting and snarling grew in volume, and there was a most curious yet strangely terrifying creaking and rustling akin to that of floorboards. Mortimer pulled a few brain cells out of fight-or-flight mode to wonder: how exactly did the wolves manage to go from in the distance to snapping at his heels in such a short time? But there was no time for pondering the mysteries of the harsh and deadly forest, for there were wolves snapping and snarling at his heels! Wolves, I tell you!

Mortimer ran and ran like an English Usain Bolt minus the incredible athletic abilty and plus a load of hungry canines. In a manner most Rincewindian he did his utmost to avoid turning his head to observe his pursuers, and so plunged forth through the trees and the bramble patches (of DEATH). And then he burst through the bush and into...

The clearing with the glade of beautiful flowers and the pond, moonlight streaming down through the gap in the trees. This lent a quite pleasing sparkly quality to the scenery, but he did not have time to register this because WOLVES WERE AFTER HIM! A thought struck him: wolves can't swim! Probably. Onward he plunged, trampling many an azure bloom underfoot in a mad dash to make it to the pond until he tripped and fell! Mortimer knew that this was the end. He closed his eyes and waited for the claws and fangs to tear into his precious skin. But death never came.

Mortimer peeked out from behind his hands and stood up. Turning around, he saw the wolves cowering in fear a short way away from the glade of flowers. But why? Maybe they were scared of the colour blue. No, that couldn't be it; his shirt was blue and they still chased him.

"Aha!" announced Mortimer suddenly. "It's the flowers! You're scared of the flowers, aren't you?" Full to the brim with new-found confidence, he approached the wolves lingering on the outside of the glade. Up close, he noticed that the wolves were chunkier than the photos which, up until now, had been his sole source of knowledge on wolves. Sort of knobbly, with awfully strange glowing yellow eyes. They were a sort of brownish colour, but it was hard to get a good look at them even in the moonlight.

"Aww, is the big scawy wolf afwaid of the pwetty wittle flowers?" said Mortimer, leaning down to sneer at the wolf. "Who's a poor wittle boy thenAAAAAAAHHHHH!"

You see, while he was busy putting his life seriously in danger, Mortimer forgot that wolves can jump. Which this one did, leaping onto him and clawing at his face. A second wolf grabbed his flailing legs in its jaws and dragged him out of the flower patch. In between pained screams, Mortimer was able to get a much clearer look at the wolves. They seemed to be made out of logs and branches and bits of timber. A wolf made out of living timber... now what would that be called? An... Ent-wolf? They looked like the kind of pet an Ent would keep. This revelation did not really mean much to Mortimer, however, as he was far too busy getting ripped to shreds by the Ent-wolf-things' teeth and claws. To make a long and painful story short: Mortimer died.

Elsewhere, Mortimer woke up.

"Whooof!" exclaimed Mortimer, clutching his chest which until a second ago had been hollowed out. "That was far from enjoyable, and hey, am I still alive?" Checking himself quickly, he found that both his body and his clothing was as intact as they had been after those cars had busted his limbs.

"Wow. I... I have absolutely no idea what's going on," he said to no-one in particular. "You know what? I think that I'll just curl up into a little ball and lie here for the night."

And that is precisely what he did.

Subject: Mortimer Matthews

Cause(s) of death:

-Crushed by car

-Bitten by botanical beasts