Manofass(2017): Beach Bum Anon Chapter 6: Jungle Hijinks


                                            >The forest has an odd lull to it

                                            >No birds chirping

                                            >No squirrels skittering

                                            >No bugs screaming

                                            >Even the wind seems dead

                                            >But at least you're away from goddamn Aum Shinrikyo

                                            >You've been walking for a about an hour

                                            >Ought to be a few miles away by now

                                            >Maybe a little less on these stubby little legs

                                            >Your stomach grumbles

                                            >Did you even eat last night?

                                            >No, you didn't

                                            >Probably for the best, who knows what horrors they laced those onions with


                                            >You've come across a small clearing and

                                            >O shit, is that a potato plant?

                                            >You hurriedly dig at the small white flower, pulling it out when the dirt is loose enough

                                            >Score

                                            >They're tiny little bastards, but they're edible

                                            >Probably

                                            >Looks kinda like a peanut crossed with a tomato

                                            >You bite a single spud directly from the root

                                            >Tastes like sand


                                            >The potatoes weren't very filling

                                            >And you don't have any water to wash the sandy taste out

                                            >It's been a few hours and the flavor still lingers

                                            >It's infuriating

                                            >At least with rotten dumpster food you get that special sourness you can't get anywhere else

                                            >You don't even mind the food poisoning anymore

                                            >Hell, at times the moldy fruit even tastes better than otherwise

                                            >But this

                                            >This is terrible

                                            >Not even accented by anything, like a hint of body odor or the methane of rat droppings

                                            >It's just straight up sand

                                            >Maybe that's what muslims have to deal with

                                            >Maybe that's why they're always getting into trouble

                                            >You'd be pretty angry, too, if you had to deal with this all the time

                                            >Something squirms underneath your foot

                                            >You yelp and leap off, expecting to have crushed a cockroach or stepped on a snake

                                            >But nothing seems to be there

                                            >You eye it for a long time, to no avail

                                            >This particular patch of ground does seem a bit higher than the surrounding forest floor, though

                                            >Inching closer, you cautiously nudge the pile of leaves and sticks that cover the topsoil

                                            >"Who?"

                                            >Your heart sinks and you are frozen in fear

                                            >"Mghmm... mhmm..."

                                            >The leaves bulge and writhe as the figure underneath reveals itself

                                            >"Eugh... who's that?"

                                            >Selkie yawns before you, simultaneously stretching out a foreleg and scratching the back of his head

                                            >You clutch your chest as you let go of breath you didn't even know you were holding

                                            >He stares with a sluggish intensity at the surrounding foliage, drinking in every last angle and curve

                                            >His gaze moves from the leaves to your hooves, slowly traveling up to your eyes and locking you in glaring scrutiny

                                            >His eyes soften and he chuckles lightly

                                            "Uh, sorry about stepping on you and stuff, Iyuh, I didn't see you there..."

                                            >He chuckles again

                                            >"Pshhh... what?"

                                            >He licks his lips, dry and cracked and covered in humus

                                            >The dirt seems to somewhat surprise him, and he curiously crunches on the particles with an open mouth

                                            >Satisfied, he wipes his tongue off on his foreleg, unaware of its own filthiness

                                            >Somewhere distant a bird is chirping

                                            >You take a deep breath as your heart finally settles

                                            "So.... What's with the dirt nap?"

                                            >As the words leave your mouth you become suddenly aware of how suspicious this is

                                            >He could easily be some kind of skinwalker or wendigo or some other native american bullshit

                                            >Lying in wait for a hapless, unknowing victim

                                            >Your heart flutters to life

                                            >He opens his mouth halfway, stops, closes it, and sniffs the air

                                            >It must have killed the real Selkie and is just now getting acquainted with its new body!

                                            >You tense up, your mind racing with action plans

                                            >"Where's... uhhh...-"

                                            >He bites his lip and sucks in a sharp breath

                                            >You begin to slowly back away, feeling the ground for a rock or a thick branch, something to use as a weapon

                                            >"What did... where did... uhhhhhhhm..."

                                            >You lock your grasp on something hard, lumpy and round, presumably a rock

                                            >"Do you know... where... Sssss-.... Stumps? Stumpy... Stump-"

                                            >With lightning speed, you bring up your foreleg and sling the rock at DoppelSelkie's forehead

                                            >You weren't really aiming, though, you just had an idea of where you wanted your projectile to go and your body went on automatic

                                            >Miraculously, it slams right smack in between his eyes, meeting the flesh with a dull crack

                                            >He falls backwards, letting out a single grunt as he hit the ground

                                            >You crouch down for a moment, ready to punce if the monster had any ideas about getting back up

                                            >Does this count as interacting?

                                            >Satan said not to interact with spirits, right?

                                            >Are monsters spirits?

                                            >But he also said not to die, so does defending yourself from spirits count as not dying, or interacting?

                                            >DoppelSelkie lets out a quiet groan

                                            >You begin to inch closer to the writhing body

                                            >You've never seen a dead skinwalker

                                            >You might be the first person to do so!

                                            >Definitely the first to kill one

                                            >Could their collective secret weakness be rocks?

                                            >It appears so, as the image of Selkie does little but slowly squirm and groan

                                            >There's a sizable gash on his forehead, slowly oozing blood over his eyes and down the side of his face

                                            >The side of /its/ face

                                            >Skinwalkers have no real gender

                                            >As you come into its field of view, it regards you with pained confusion

                                            >Yeah, you sure got the jump on this fucker

                                            >But alas, it could be a farce

                                            >It's entirely possible that he's...

                                            >That it's taking advantage of your sudden overwhelming victory

                                            >Waiting to jump the minute you let your guard down

                                            >Wearing your skin like a latex suit

                                            >That would be just like a skinwalker, employing the ol' switcharoo

                                            >Such a cowardly tactic

                                            >But what matches cowardice, other than overwhelming cowardice?

                                            >It blinks at you and you take off without further thought


                                            >It's a lot easier to celebrate your victory with the skinwalker far behind you

                                            >Now that it's not staring you in the eyes, you swell with pride at having bested such a terrifying creature

                                            >Actually, if a skinwalker could be brought down with a measly stone, was it really that terrifying?

                                            >Surely your fear all these years must have been irrational

                                            >Native Americans are pussies

                                            >You've noticed that your gait has turned from its typical skulk into a confident trot

                                            >In fact, you've felt this overwhelming euphoria ever since the encounter

                                            >How quickly in this childish body you have overcome a beast of myth hundreds of years old

                                            >You can't stop replaying the last moments in your mind

                                            >The fear in its eyes as you sized up your prize

                                            >And you can't help but feel ashamed for leaving it alive like that

                                            >No doubt it will die helpess and pathetic, if not from exposure or hunger then picked apart by woodland scavengers

                                            >Perhaps other skinwalkers

                                            >How much better would it have felt to end it yourself?

                                            >And how would roasted skinwalker taste?

                                            >You aren't sure how you'd start a fire, having never done so without matches or a lighter

                                            >But the flesh of an ultimate predator shouldn't carry too much in the way of diseases

                                            >And if it does, then who's to say Satan wouldn't fix you up with magic?

                                            >He did seem fairly interested in your survival

                                            >Unless that was a trick so you would kill yourself with your own hubris

                                            >Careful, Icarus

                                            >Maybe you should just stick to foraging