Day Eighteen – The Inedible Disgust
Days had passed since the boy carried out his clever plan, capturing three small monsters without touching a single one. He had become calmer, more cunning, as if hunger had stripped away the remnants of childhood and planted in him a mind too sharp for someone just twelve years old.
But things had changed.
The place had gone quiet. No sounds, no movements in the distance, no monsters following their usual paths. The large creature with the gaping mouth — once his greatest weapon — hadn't been heard screaming in two days. As if the monsters understood what was happening. As if, despite their madness, they had learned.
The boy sat on his knees, staring at the stone wall before him. The maps he had drawn began to lose meaning.
"My plan doesn't work anymore… if nothing falls into the trap, then the trap is useless."
Hunger returned to claim its throne. But it wasn't the kind of hunger that made him cry — it was the hunger that silenced him, made him think about things he never imagined he'd even consider.
And on that gray morning… he saw it.
It was climbing a crumbling wall, moving slowly, in complete silence, as if it didn't exist. It wasn't a huge monster… but its appearance was more grotesque than anything the boy had ever seen in his life.
A round body covered in wet fur, as if always soaked, with eight black legs moving without sound. But what made the boy's heart clench… wasn't the legs or the shape — it was the mouth.
It wasn't a mouth… it was an organic opening, pulsing open and shut as if swallowing endless saliva, making a revolting, wet sound like chewing rotten meat.
The boy stood frozen. Hunger whispered to him: "Kill it… eat it… no one will know."
But he muttered to himself: "This isn't food… this isn't edible… this is a nightmare."
He watched the creature until it disappeared into the shadows. Then he sat on the ground, motionless. Every nerve in his body screamed for food… but his heart, after all he had endured, remained firm.
"I won't become that… not even in this hell… no."
And that night, he vomited. There was nothing in his stomach, but his soul refused to continue, as if it wanted to expel the nightmare. He sat for a long time, staring into the darkness, and said:
"One day… I might have to. But not today. Not yet."
Day Nineteen – Remnants of Night, and the Hunt Begins
Hunger. It was no longer just a feeling — it had become a shadow living inside his ribs. It whispered to him, pressed on his chest, reminded him every second that if he didn't move… he would die.
The boy sat pressed against the wall, trembling. His eyes watched the shadows, and his stomach made noises as if it were trying to scream for him.
He thought, then hesitated.
"No new corpses… no food… nothing."
Then a thought came to him… that woman. The first thing he ever saw. The first terror.
He hadn't remembered her clearly before, but hunger unlocked that sealed door in his memory.
The long arms, the skin melting with human flesh, the sharp spear-like feet. Her silence… was more dangerous than any other monster's scream.
"Can I hunt her?" "If I… made a trap?"
He thought… then stopped.
"No… if I go near her, I won't come back."
He let out a long breath and whispered to himself:
"She's not food… she's an end."
And the night passed, long like a punishment. His sleep wasn't sleep… it was a loss of consciousness between nightmares.
At gray dawn, he awoke. Eyes red, mouth dry, but he moved. Hunger would not allow him to stay still.
He returned to the abandoned streets, the same corners, the same strategies.
But this time… he found something different.
Something he had never seen before.
There was a body, curled in a corner — but it wasn't fully dead. It was a small creature, neither human nor completely monstrous.
Its skin was pale gray, eyeless, but its face was turned toward him, as if it could sense him.
Its body resembled a child… but its limbs ended in black threads, tangled like exposed nerves.
It didn't move.
It didn't make a sound.
The boy froze, hand on his crude weapon, heart pounding.
"It's small… seems easy… but it's not natural."
Then he whispered:
"Is it bait?… or a trap?"
But he was too hungry… too hungry to think clearly.
He stood, staring at the curled-up creature — the sick gray body, the threads extending from its joints, slowly pulsing as if breathing.
The boy wasn't a monster, despite what he had done.
But now, everything inside him pushed toward the kill.
He lifted the sharp stone beside him, stepped closer.
"It's small… easy… it won't feel a thing…"
He stepped forward.
Suddenly, he stopped.
The threads moved — all at once.
Not toward him… but toward the ground.
As if they were burrowing into the decayed soil, searching for something.
Then… a circle began to form.
The threads were weaving something, slowly — but it was clear: a trap.
The boy immediately backed away, eyes wide, heart pounding violently.
"It wanted me to come closer…!"
Then he saw movement. From behind the rubble, in the collapsed ceiling.
A larger creature, with limbs like whips, crawled toward him in silence.
But the boy was not who he once was.
Without hesitation, he threw a stone in the opposite direction, then ran with all the strength he had left.
The sound the creature on the ground made had changed. It wasn't screaming… it was laughing. A wet, muffled laugh, like someone drowning and laughing at the same time.
The boy ran through the dark alleys, breath tearing at him — but he smiled as he ran.
"I almost fell for it… almost."
—
After hiding behind a crumbling building, he caught his breath.
Soaked in sweat, in dust, in terror.
But he was alive.
And this time… he survived because he had become smarter.