A hostage situation was something I never imagined myself in, especially not this early into a new job. I had only been working at this shitty gas station for little over a month. Why some criminals decided to hold up the world’s shittiest gas station is beyond me, but here I was stowed away in my Smoke Cabin, cowering.

My Smoke Cabin—lovingly named—was a place within the walls I found I could enter and hide, with the entrance also very out of sight; it’s a very shitty place, like I said. I would often stow away in here during work to fulfill my need for cigarettes, a bad habit I’m too stressed to consider breaking—I was a fairly heavy smoker, encroaching on smoking a pack a day.

I was in there when the first shots were fired, followed by men yelling and some women screaming. I stayed in my little hole, there was no way was I going out there. Surely, the cops would be here soon enough and the situation would be handled. It might be too late for some of them, and I felt terrible, but I couldn’t risk trying to hide anyone.

And then a shout of pain, followed by more screaming.

Fairly high-pitched screaming rang out as I heard a someone bust the doors open to the backroom, near where I was, the screaming getting louder with it. “You keep an eye on them, I’m gonna teach this bitch a lesson. Fucking stabbing me with a pen, the bitch,” the deep, gravely voice demanded. The screaming continued, relentless, until I heard a thud, cutting the voice out for but a moment. “Shut the fuck up!”

I couldn’t help myself, I pulled my wall out to the side a small degree, peering at the sight. I almost vomited, the man, pistol in hand, slammed the gun into the girl’s face until it was unrecognizable and didn’t stop; there was no more screaming from the girl, but the rising and falling of her chest indicated she was alive for now.

Tears started forming in my eyes. I knew I had to do something, but as I tried to run out, my legs betrayed me. They knew nothing other than fear, shaking enough to make me eyes dizzy.

I fell down to my side, covering my mouth as to not whimper. I knew I had to do something. It was my fault this poor girl was gonna die. I started to cry, not out loud, but I could hardly keep the quick bursts of breaths quiet. I laid there, motionless. As I heard the ripping of clothes, I laid there.

I laid there and laid there.

Until fate had decided I was finally worth disposing of as a cough rose in my throat. I knew this feeling, I was about to go into a coughing fit. It always happened if I started crying, even if just a little. They don’t last long, but this was a disaster.

I started coughing, I tried to keep it covered as much as I could, but it was too much to keep down, and trying only made the outburst worse as it all seemingly came out at once.

“Now I know for a fact walls don’t cough,” the gravelly man spoke, “Why don’t you come on out and we can talk this over.” He almost seemed kind in that statement, but even a monkey would know better.

“THREE!” he screamed, “TWO –” three gunshots in succession, burrowed through the wall above my head. I wouldn’t be alive if I were standing, “– ONE!”

Steps tapped the ground, creeping closer to where I laid, until the wall was torn off, revealing me to him and him to me. I couldn’t even look at him. Despite the incessant shaking, my body as immovable as rock, as ice shot through my veins.

“You poor, poor thing. Time to say you’re prayers, I suppose. Maybe I should let you finish pissing yourself first.”

“no.” I pushed past my lips.

“No?”

“NO!” I jumped up, adrenaline breaking me out of my cocoon of fear, ready to take him down.

Two loud gunshots and I found myself back on the ground, only having made it up to my hands and knees before I was put back down like some wild animal.

I laid there twisting in pain as the holes in my back bled, staining my olive T-shirt some shades darker.

I moaned and groaned, crying audibly as I soiled myself. I wouldn’t even be remembered as a hero dying to save that girl; instead, I would remain imaged as a coward. Perhaps it’s what I deserve, but I didn’t want any of this. I wanted to live, in spite of it all, I loved being alive and I wanted to be with my family. I wanted my mom. “M-mommy…” I coughed out, sobbing as the world around me darkened. I heard sirens in the distance as the man put one last bullet in my head.

The last thing I expected was to be staring up at a vibrant blue sky, with the tops of trees surrounding the edges of my vision. Then again, I don’t even know what the first thing I expected was. I didn’t expect to be here, that’s for sure… wherever this was.

The transition to here was practically non-existent as one moment I was grovelling on the floor in pain and the next I was here, adjusting my eyes to the bright sun breaking through to my little resting ground. Speaking of pain, I felt my back. My shirt was still wet with blood, but I couldn’t feel any bullet wounds, nor was I in any discomfort… Except my pants were filled with excrement…

I tried to stand up, only to fall back over. My legs shook as I could barely exert any movement of my own out of them. Instead, I resorted to taking my clothes off whilst lying on the ground. I didn’t really want to roam around nude, that was beyond embarrassing, but I also didn’t want to run around in the world’s shittiest jeans.

After calming my nerves, I shakily stood up and finally got a good look at my surroundings. I was in a clearing in some forest, trees surrounded me on all sides. Big thick trunks stretched to the sky, growing closer together than one would expect, leaves blocking most of the sunlight, making this the only place where I could easily see. Stepping in would be leaving the visibility behind. In the my little clearing, however, there was only one thing of interest: a bed of brilliant blue flowers.

The sun was high in the sky, meaning it had to be around noon. I didn’t have much time. I didn’t know much on how to survive, but I knew I needed food, shelter, and a fire—and a way to clean my clothes.

Even with these in mind, the urge to just lay back down and give up was overwhelming. One step at a time, I pushed myself forward. I knew if gave in I would never see my family again and I couldn’t put them through that. My mom, I couldn’t bear to see her cry. I was gonna take this second chance and get back home. So, with my objectives in mind, I crept into the forest.

After many hours stumbling, tripping, and falling through the dark, dreary, dank, damp depths of the forest, I—by some miracle—found my way back to the clearing. I dropped what I carried on the ground and fell down with it, letting the grass hold me for some time.

Sitting back up, I took inventory of my supply: a pitiful fagot I tied together with some of the vines that littered the forest, some dry leaves for kindling, and an assortment of all sorts of berries I hoped weren’t poisonous.

It took what I assumed was maybe a couple hours as the sun was starting to fall behind the trees that surrounded me, nearly casting the clearing in shadow.

I knew I’d have to make haste with my fire. I walked over to one of pillars of wood surrounding me, sometimes known as trees, and snapped one of the thinner, reachable branches off. Bringing it over to where my twigs were and I pulled one out from the vines holding them together, a thicker one, and began. Putting the twig between my hands, I started pushing one hand forward as the other went back, then the reverse, spinning the branch back and forth. Arms like pistons, I kept this up for a while, growing tired, but I was making progress. I knew I couldn’t give up.

After some time, and only one break, I managed to get a small stream of smoke to rise off the branch. Hoping I was doing this right, I tried putting the dried leaves on it, after thoroughly crumpling them up and trying not to smother it. I blew into it, hoping to get the fire going. It started to catch fire, a shock to me, but it was dying out fast. Thinking on my feet I sprinted over to the bed of blue flowers and picked them, hoping it would help my dainty little fire grow into a strong fire I could be proud of, like a father to his son.

After snatching handfuls as fast as I could, I ran back and threw them all on, too anxious to think about how stupid that was. As soon as the flowers touched the small little flame it roared up a brilliant blue, almost taking my eyebrows with it. The flame roared, sounding like laughter for but a moment, and as I breathed the flame I laughed with it. The flame took hold of the branch and died back down to an orange-red.

I kept laughing, not sure why I started, but I kept laughing. Proud of my work, I allowed myself this pleasure. Not too long after though, I stopped, realizing this one branch wouldn’t last forever. I began collecting many more branches from the surrounding trees, trying to make sure they didn’t crack too loud and reverberate through the forest. I brought them back to the fire—putting some on, putting most to the side.

Satisfied that my little survival knowledge was put to use, I decided I should probably try to eat, as I had been ignoring my whiny stomach all day. As I sat down next to the berries that I had laid on the clean-ish part of my shirt, I was almost blown away by a craving—a desire—for cigarettes. I hadn’t even touched one in hours, being distracted by the work I had to do. In vain desperation, I searched the pockets of my now brown jeans for even just part of a cigarette I knew I wouldn’t find.

After digging into the back pocket of my pants I did find one thing, however, something that would reaffirm what a dumbass I am: my lighter.

“Fuck me –” I put my head in my hands, “– I spent so long getting that fire going.”

I sat there curled up for a minute, before my craving for the holy pleasure of nicotine demanded satisfaction; realizing I wasn’t going to get it, I focused on the berries, hoping eating would distract me from it. There were different colors and different shapes: greens, reds, purples, blues, and pinks—round, oblong spheroids, and even a cube.

I tried them one by one, and to my surprise, I found them quite tasty, if a little unfulfilling. That was until I got to the cube one, pink and shimmering in the firelight. As soon as I started chewing it, I was immediately hit with the most sour sensation I’ve ever endured, followed by my tongue nearly catching fire by the heat that immediately followed. Holding back the urge to vomit, I finally quelled the burning inferno that was my tongue, but was left with the most bitter aftertaste, to my chagrin.

After finishing off the berries, now tainted by the overwhelming bitterness, I reluctantly laid down and tried to doze off, which worked out well despite my fears that fire might attract creatures, rather than scare them off. I was out cold and slept a seemingly dreamless slumber.

Waking up without incident, I looked over to my fire. It was out. I wasn’t too concerned however, as relighting it wouldn’t be a challenge with my lighter, especially with those blue flowers. I was just hoping I’d find my way out of here before I ran out of fuel for my lighter, because I’ve no idea how to keep the fire going while I’m asleep. It’s not like I can get logs with ease, not that those would last the night either.

I figured I should probably trek further into the woods today, finding a way out being of equal importance to food gathering. Finding a river, pond, or lake to wash out my clothing was also of importance to me; I wanted to get those soiled articles of clothing washed and dried as soon as possible. It’s already too late to get them completely cleaned out, but I’d have to manage.

And so, I randomly decided that I’d head west out of all directions, I couldn’t even make an educated guess as to where I should head.

Half an hour into my hike, I discovered a species of insect that was extremely bothersome. Little balls of color with wings and creepy big eyes that make me want to squash them all. Normally, I probably would’ve just left them alone, but after I tossed one a berry, they kept flying all over me, making me visibly irritated. They’re like gnats flying in your face, but the size of baseballs. I had picked up a stick and began swatting around, splatting a few. Seems they weren’t very bright though as only some of them left upon the display. They kept just rubbing against me like some kind of house cat.

On the verge of shouting in frustration I gave a swing, missing completely. I snapped. About to just scream and run as far as I could from these bubble-invading creatures, but before I could do that, however, something else—rather someone else—screamed. I didn’t know if I should be excited or worried. There was someone else out here, but on the other hand, whoever it was was clearly doing worse than me. And I knew I shouldn’t investigate like your typical white guy, but I couldn’t help it.

Creeping through the trees I found something I didn’t expect, in a clearing not dissimilar to my own encampment, I found a dark-green pony pinned down by… My eyes nearly rolled backwards as my jaw hit the floor. They… They were wolves… Wooden wolves!

What was in those fucking berries?

Then the pony screamed, the same scream as before. It sent chills down my spine, sending every hair on my body at attention, as even the little bugs stopped pestering me and took notice. I couldn’t believe this creature made that scream, but I didn’t have time to think as the unthinkable happened.

I could only watch in horror as the wooden teeth of these freakish monsters sank into the pony and began ripping it to pieces as it cried for mercy.

Familiar with my own cowardice, my knees gave way once again as I watched, unable to look away. However, when the guts started flying, so did mine as everything inside me raced its way back up my throat and I let it all out on the roots of the tree beside me.

A mistake, as those glowing green eyes that stared nowhere at all, somehow looked over in my direction. Looking nowhere and yet at me, I felt its gaze as I heard the one depart from the group and stalk towards me.

The little bugs around me, determined to make my last moments hell, flew into my face, rubbing all over. As I teared up, begging for life, the insect looked over to the wolves, to the other insects, looked back to me, let out a chirp and flew right at the wolves.

A bombardment of insects rained this day. Though saying it was effective would be an understatement as they did nothing to the wolves. That was until I saw them all tear the wolf’s attention away from me as they flew past the other wolves, letting the monsters chase them away, losing many of their brethren in their efforts.

I rose on shaky legs, leaning against the tree, silently thanking the pests. I slowly strode over to the mangled corpse. I could hardly stand to look at it, but something in me wouldn't allow me to walk away. As I got close to it, the stench of guts and gore immediately filled my nose as I dropped to my knees and threw up one more time.

I crawled a little closer, a feeling inside that there was something I had to do. I got so close I almost put my hand on the creature, not even thinking about the gruesome scene anymore, completely blanking on anything other than the vague pulse in my hand as I crept it forward. I was just about to lay my hand on it when–

“You bucking monster! How bucking dare you!” a raspy voice called out, it sounded like it came from above. And it was true, but I couldn’t believe it. Above me was a pony, complete with wings, screaming at me, tears in the corners of its eyes. It was blue with a rainbow for a mane, same with its tail.

Before I could even figure out what the hell was going on the thing flew down at me faster than I could even think and knocked me back into a tree. All the breath left my body and it felt like my chest had shattered. I tried breathing, but I hardly could, feeling like I was stabbed every time I inhaled.

I knew I had to get away from whatever this thing was, so I turned and fled as it was distracted by the other wingless—recently deceased—pony.

By some stroke of luck, I managed to slip the pony as I heard it call out, demanding my return so it could kill me. I wasn’t gonna have any of that. Seemingly though, my body wasn’t gonna have much more of this moving business. After making my way further back into the forest, my mind slipped me as I fell over. I knew I was finally going to die.

I cried for my mom one last time.

Author's Note

This guy can't contain his lunch, can he?

Here's my attempt at something without a completely overpowered main character.

Novice writer here. Tips & Tricks of the game would be wonderful. I have a hard time writing things as I see them in my head.

The beginning in the human world is a bit rushed, but I didn't want to stay there long and just get the story rolling.

Fun Fact: I had thought about ironically naming this story, "The Greatest Edge," from all this edge.