The last year of his life

^{Image taken from Pixabay}

Once upon a time in the lands of Mezter, there was a man called Jungknab by his peers due to his age. His real name, however, was unknown even to him. In his youth, he believed that his name was Ummer, but after years of travelling the world and unveiling the ancient mysteries of his family, he saw himself doubting the origin of his name and instead considering other options such as Kliman and Sommut. It was not until the month of March, during the last year of his life, that an old man called him by a name that sounded to him as familiar as the sound of rain during winter, but he could not place it at any particular point of his memory.

When April came, he had not forgotten the name Amud. The heat of summer was all but over and the icy winds of the south were starting to pour over him like glasses of delicious wine that filled him with the drunken stupor of regret. There was nothing he could do any more but walk from library to library three days a week to scour every tome for his name. It was not until May that he heard the name again. This time, it was a tall drunken lad who was looking at him from above. The weak and lanky tower of a youth smiled at him while in his throat resounded the call of a deep phlegm preparing itself to erupt.

The surprised man was hesitant on whether to murder the youth on the spot or to interrogate him, but in his moment of doubt, the inevitable phlegm found itself lodged in his right eye. He screamed and covered his eye before kneeling on the ground, giving a generous chance to the young punk to hit his head with a small but thick stick that had previously been hanging on his belt.

He woke up later that night with the ugliest headache he had ever felt. He heard a terrible buzzing around him, and when he opened his eyes, all he could see was a cloud of black fire sprouting from the foul ground. He felt it crawling on his skin. He realised he had been thrown on a pile of rotting meat where flies were feasting.

He puked at once and ran away swatting at the flies. At once, he became a reeking pariah. The insects had turned him into a walking nest. After three miraculous months of survival and partial blindness, he yelled in despair. He had snuck into the library at night while the librarian slept, having just washed himself of any odour in the river, and was reading the last books left to check. While in pain, he had turned the pages forty-seven times that night when he passed over a map. The legend said the king Ummer had once ruled over a town called Amud.

"Oh, father, I have failed you", he said amid sorrowful wails, believing his blood came from a line of royalty, and all he had managed in his life was get it filled with maggots.

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I decided to write a 20-minute story (19:02 - 19:22) as a test to see what came out.

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Posted from my blog with SteemPress : https://cryptosharon.xopus.io/the-last-year-of-his-life/

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