บท 7: P.. PLEASE, HELP ME.

***In a rural part of 'Eclipse of the Ocean' called the Outskirts..

The streets were muddy, filled with filth and without signs of a significant road. The air comes off as stale and the atmosphere looks inhabitable for life though..

As usual, this inhabitable environment is completely overcrowded. There are people of different races hanging everywhere. These people moved at different places though with a significant aura of lifelessness in their actions as their carry about their usual everyday routine which is – Survive the day.

"Move out of the way!.", A man shouts at some men while drawing some indifferent attention of the street to himself as well as his cart.

Simple wooden Carts filled with dead corpses of both beasts and people can be seen being pulled and pushed through the muddy streets. The carts srnds splatters of mud flying everywhere as it's workers struggle to push the carts shaky wheels past one muddy pothole to another muddy pothole.

Some people had enough energy to utter angry curses of frustration at the cart pullers due to mud splattering on them while others just keep on moving without stop through the streets despite the splatters.

No matter how lifeless of exhausted many people look, they never seemed to stop moving in their specific directions. They seem to be just like work dogs,.. hunting for meat.

Taking in a deep breath, a rugged old man casually on one side corner of the muddy street hisses as he picks his half-brown teeth with what seems to be a dried leaf stalk as the old-man lazily observes his environment.

Everywhere the old-man looks be it front, back, within, below and even at the open skies has essences completely ridden with three words – poverty, filth and whatever the name the opposite of order is –.

'Guurrrruuuuuggh.'

Listening to the barely noticeable sound of his own protesting stomach, the man observing old mn adds one last word in his elderly thoughts,..

Hunger.

And by hunger he doesn't just mean the menacing hunger that comes naturally with poverty but rather his thoughts stray to more interesting varieties of hunger.

Hunger for hope, hunger for inexistent opportunities, Hunger for blood, Hunger for food, Hunger of lust, Hunger for peace, Hunger for life and even, Hunger for.. Death.

"This place cannot possibly be worse than hell.", A nearby person says in a hush tone while moving close to corner position of the observing old man.

The old man roughly spits out the stalk of leaf hanging on his lips before speaking in response.

"You're wrong, if it exists.. then this is hell.".

Ignoring the biting hunger coming from his stomach, the old man turns to face the direction of the familiar voice.

Coated in mud from almost head to toe, a young man with an awfully hunched back looks at the streets with muddy pale yet pursed lips.

Various muddy and over-sixed rags have been wrapped around this young man's body and a torn top is placed over a similar pair of dirty torn trousers in order to give this young man some semblance of humane dignity though observing this young man's current appearance,.. the clothings obviously did not do a very good job.

Apart from the already inhumane filth of the young man's clothes, his clothing has added layer of stains of dried crimson blood. This blood seems have been flowing from his head down his neck and these red stains tells a story of a recent head injury left unattended to.

Another splatter of blood near his torso tells the story of yet another injury from an unknown part of his stomach.

Giving a dry chuckle at the old man's humour, this battered up young man opens up a conversation with the old man if for anything but to keep his own shaky sanity in this depraved environment.

"Old Ning, is it a consequence of the hot weather or are you looking especially dry today?.", The young man asks with his tone obviously mocking the old man almost skeletal body as the young man's muddy face squeezes into an even uglier look due to his smiling gesture.

Despite the teasing mockery, the old man keeps his silence for a while as he stares at the ugly mud face of the other party with his curiosity as to what had put him in such a bloody state dying quickly with each second longer he stares.

Everybody in the Outskirts is known to look like SHIT but the young man standing in front of him right now looks like.. SHIT!.

With a soft sigh, the old man internally decides that he will rather not know the reason behind the bloody look as he peels off his gaze for the other guy with a sigh while responding in order to keep his own sanity.

"Are you,.." – Old Ning is about to respond with a tease if his own when.

*BANG!*..*CRASH!*..

"You bastards!.."

Now even allowed to complete his sentence, the Old man's speech is cut off by an outburst from one of the corpse carrying carts passing through the muddy roads.

Looking towards the streets, Old Ning cannot help but swallow an unsurprised sigh. Apparently, a group of thieves wearing bamboo masks and wit numbers up to fifteen men strong have somehow managed to throw-off the cart-pullers with the element of surprise.

After throwing off the Cart pullers, the most powerful looking ones amongst the bunch of thieves swung whatever dead bodies they can find; be it of a person or a beast onto their backs as they raced in different directions with the cart pullers now giving chase.

Observing the disturbing live action, Old Ning puts another stalk of leaf between his lips as he wacthes the cart-men giving chase only to give-up barely before starting the pursuit.

Old Ning watched all this with a bored blanket expression. The rushed smell of corpse assaults his senses as one of the thieves races past him with a dead beast's body over his back.

In this hell hole, Cannibalism seems to be getting more and more common as hunger driven people would eat anything and everything in order to stay alive.

"Atleast I don't have to worry about getting my corpse stolen since there will be nothing to feast on.", The mud covered youth says while trying but failing to get a laugh at his own disheartening joke.

Taking one final glance at the bloody youth, Old Ning shakes his head before walking off.

Staying in this setting is already taking a heavy toll on his mind. With a sigh, he looks around one last time as he starts to walk away.

Small messy houses are arranged without any specific order at the sides of the streets. Some houses were nothing but makeshift tents, others were made from clay and a few were made from bricks.

Walking between these houses, Old Ning seems to have finally lost the will to live as he maps his way back home with a mental compass pointing the way.

The paths he takes are shadowy and crawling with filthy people with less-than-clean intentions. These people seem to subconsciously realised that the old man has nothing to offer but his life and so they left him alone as he trailed his way uphill and then finally, the old man locates his house.

A humbly squared mud House with tattered blue roof sits in a lone corner. The house has it's windows guarded by thorny branches known for lethality and it's environment is much quieter than most. The door to Old Nings apartment is made from wood and a complex lock system though standing at the entrance, Old Ning could not help but frown.

Everything is mostly fine but standing in front of his door, Old Ning finds one major problem. This problem now is that this complex lock system of his door is currently unlocked!.

Old Ning's brows furrow lightly while making his facial wrinkles more prominent. He quickly pulls out a small pouch from his tattered clothes and takes out a rusty corporate knife from within.

It is highly likely that whoever the robber is or was has already fled the scene but when you live in a surrounding like this you live to learn to put precaution before anything else.

Moving silently, Old Ning bursts in through the door with his knife ready to lay waste to whoever dared to invade his residence but he immediately he steps inside, he finds himself shocked by the sight he finds within.

"P-please, help.. help me.".