Where can I read about your oc?! I need more... I need a sequel to this story
This is a snippet from a roleplaying scenario, or rather, a character's diary entry. I haven't posted it anywhere, as I'm not an experienced roleplayer or writer.
Briefly, about the character:
Name: Hilda Kane
Gender: Female
Age: 28
Occupation: Lighthouse keeper (Assistant to her uncle from age 16 to 20; sole keeper since then)
My artwork with Hilda and a timeline of the character's changes after the events described in the diary and arrival on the mainland:
Here are all of Hilda's diary entries for this episode. Read at your own risk. I am not a writer and English is not my first language.
TW: Alcohol, starvation, isolation, mention of cannibalism for survival, mental illness, unreliable narrator.
The winter is particularly cold this year; it seems to be the coldest I've experienced here, maybe even in my whole life.
The delivery is two months delayed. The reason is unknown, and there's been no communication. I'm beginning to think we've been forgotten or abandoned.
So far, I have enough canned meat to feed Brownie (dogās name). I feel almost no hunger myself; I have to literally force down a couple of spoonfuls of oatmeal porridge, which is more like kissel. Or maybe I'm convincing myself I'm not hungry.
I woke up to a strange noise from the backyard. It was hard to identify the source, but it sounded unusualādefinitely not "just a gust of wind." I quickly got out of bed and grabbed the shotgun I keep nearby in case of emergency.
The house was dark, and there was no point in lighting the kerosene lamp. It wouldn't help much in this weather anyway.
When I reached the back door, I heard the noise more clearly: footsteps, the crunch of snow under heavy feet.Ā Pushing open the door, I stepped outside.
The wind whipped my face, and the snow blinded me. I tried to see through the whiteout, but I couldn't make anything out. I took a few steps forward when I suddenly noticed a dark figure approaching.
I raised my shotgun and pointed it at the silhouette. It stopped. It looked like a bear.Ā I should have remembered then...
there are no bears on this island.
As I fired, I braced myself for the deafening roar of a wounded animal or, if I missed, to accept death. But what I certainly wasn't prepared for was a human scream.
The shot took him in the neck, grazing the carotid artery.
I don't know how long I spent trying to shove his soul back into his body through the wound. I should have eased his suffering, let him die peacefully.
I wanted to believe it was a dream, but the man's body and the smell of blood quickly brought me back to reality.
It's a good thing I won't have to live with the guilt of killing a man for long. I'd hoped the night visitor would be a jackal, at the very least, a bear at most.
Yes, predator meat is risky to eat, but it's still meat.Ā And that's at least another week to wait for rescue.
Butchering the meat took far longer than usual. Besides the physical exhaustion, I had to take breaks, drowning my conscience in alcohol to steady my trembling hands.Ā
I'm doing this to survive. But I'm not sure I want to live after this
Today, I finished dismembering the body. It's unrecognizable now ā just bones, a bucket of liver, and a freezer full of meat. The severed head is in the freezer as well, in a black bag. I lack the strength to even look at that man's face.
The stomach aches have subsided, but I still can't sleep. Every time I drift off, I hear screaming.Ā Every night, I hear curses directed at me, screams seemingly emanating from the freezer.
I can't remember the last time I slept for an hour. Five or six days ago?Ā I can't ignore the screams of the man I killed any longer. I guess I'll have to confront him and hear what he thinks about meā¦
Howard is incredibly unstable. He'll try to calm me down, saying it wasn't my fault and I did the right thing. Then he'll scream and curse, calling me a "monster" and a "disgusting creature."Ā If he had the use of his limbs, I think he would have hit, maybe even killed me.
Howard started yelling hysterically and cursing again. When he calmed down, he said something utterly insane:
"I want to see if you have a heart.
I want to see your conscience consume you.
I want to see you destroy your life.
I want to see you rot from the inside out.
I want to witness it with my own eyes.
I want my eyes to be with you always."
I've heard about the Mongolian national dish, supposedly "boiled lamb's eyes."
It sounds like a strange, ancient tradition, and certainly "exotic" for tourists.Ā But I've never had any desire to try it.Ā Much less swallow human eyes. Raw.Ā Howard, however, promised that if I did, he would leave me alone.Ā He wanted to watch from the inside as time and disease destroyed my body, to see and revel in my suffering.
Chewing on an eye is impossible. It simply slips down your throat like a slug or a jellyfishāa jellyfish with the smell and taste of rotting flesh and blood.
I wanted to spit it out, but the eye had already slid down my esophagus and into my stomach. I deeply regretted listening to Howard. It was unbearable. I was ready to rip my belly open to get it out.Ā Bending over the sink, I tried to vomit, but the strain caused my esophagus to spasm, and the eye became lodged in my throat. After several attempts to cough it up, I felt like I was suffocating.Ā Praying for a quick death, I continued to cough and writhe in pain, no longer hoping for, or wanting, survival.
But God, it seems, was not merciful. I managed to dislodge the rotting flesh from my esophagus and breathe again.
When I regained consciousness, I saw the eye on the floor, seemingly looking around the room fearfully, then at me, its pupil narrowed to a tiny dot.
I don't remember the events that followed.Ā Suffocation or sleep deprivation likely caused me to pass out.
A couple of days ago, they brought in supplies. Thank goodness those idiots from the mainland brought a paramedic.Ā However, they apparently only thought they'd need him for a death certificate.
Fortunately, the paramedic had sedatives and painkillers.
All that remained of "Howard" were a few frozen pieces of meat in the freezer and cremated remains. I'll bury him in the spring, under a flowering tree. I wish I knew his real name.
discoholicmusic
ellievsbear
kianamaiart
andulkaphoto
