Conundrum

Chapter 12

      His stomach had turned into a feral beast, pounding and writhing around inside him until it turned his insides into painful mush. Its partner had overrun his mouth, turning it into a desert devoid of any water. His tongue felt massive and wouldn't move even with his most desperate attempts.

      His traitorous jaw wouldn't accept his commands. Instead, it followed the lead of his stomach and tongue. Despite trying to regain control of it, it hung open against the cold, letting it seep into his teeth and turn them into ice. His constant panting pushed past his freezing teeth and created small clouds that hung around his blindfold, mocking his lack of sight.

      Everything had turned against him. Keith felt like a general in a losing battle, fighting to keep his terrified and uncommitted soldiers fighting against the enemy that was his own body. But by then, he was the only soldier on the battlefield. Mind against body, and the body was utterly destroying him.

      Keith wanted the battle to end. Wanted his stomach to stop eating his insides, the nausea to retreat and never return, the desert to become and oasis. He wanted the pain to fade away and the darkness to give way to light.

      But they had thousands in their armies, while he fought with a single sword. They crashed into him, wave after wave of soldiers, hurting him, slashing at, and destroying him from the inside and out.

      His mind had begun to succumb to the body, for dizziness had started to spin his world and thoughts. After endless lashes from his body, his mind began to turn into mush. And after a moment's hesitation, his mind fell victim to his body.

      The dizziness and nausea mixed with exhaustion made his stomach clench and his throat burn. He retched and heaved but was only able to choke up a small amount of bile, as there was nothing in his stomach to expel. Everything had gone according to plan for his body, and it was only a matter of time before his mind fully surrendered to its might.

      His mind no longer knew what time it was, its internal clock tampered with the constant pain he was experiencing. But it knew that with the sound of footsteps came pain and his world would continue to stay dark underneath the cloth. The morbid thought of dying in the darkness had taken to his mind quite often and replaced his blood with ice.

      But he knew the cold well enough now, as he was nearly numb with it. His body no longer shook; his body had long overcome that weakness. But with every swift breath he took, it scraped against his raw throat and coated it with unforgiving ice. His lungs burned with it and the rest of his body cursed them for being weak.

      The battle raged on, but it only met silence. The silence jabbed at his face, knowing that the battle was only visible to him and no one could join his lone battle against his mind and body. It was a reminder that the world was unknowing and unwilling to help him.

      A click disrupted the silence's leering and a brief and small piece of hope slipped through his mind before it was crushed. The silence made a tactical retreat, but not before reminding him that the world wasn't helping him. It was only watching as she did as she pleased.

      Keith didn't stop. He lay there raging against the thousands of soldiers and waited for the pain to come. Accepting it, for it had become a constant the past days. For periods of time, his body would gain more soldiers from an outside force, making it all the more powerful. But who was he to stop it?

      The familiar sound of clacking high heels mimicked the marching of the new soldiers on their way to join the empire. They stopped, and Keith imagined peering over to a hillside and feeling despair as he saw row and row of new, fresh, enemy soldiers ready to join the fight.