Belize
Hunger. A twisting, gnawing ache of emptiness. For flesh, for blood, for marrow. Thought slithered away, lost in the pulse, the pain, of want…need…hunger.
Time passed.
A spark lit inside the creature; its instinct to live flared. The creature narrowed the pain, focused it. Its world became a small, dark place, filled with a greedy lust to consume. The hunger overwhelmed it, chasing away not just thought but also instinct.
Waking, sleeping, no, up, no, down, always hungry, its world still small and dark.
Time passed.
The spark flared again. Instinct pushed the creature forward, pushed it to explore its small world. It began to wallow in the dark. It felt dirt against its body. It felt the scrape of rocks against its skin. The stink of its own blood filled the space. Unlike the hunger that dulled, this pain sharpened its senses.
And the blood brought insects. And the insects were food.
A pitiful, meager food—not filling its belly, but giving it some sustenance. It was enough.
Slowly, it began to move beyond instinct. It began to think. To strategize. To consider escape from the pit that confined it.
It whispered into the dark, calling forth larger creatures to consume. It grew stronger. It called louder.
And then it found a human mind.
Connected with it. Read it. Learned the human’s language. And in the learning, it remembered itself…himself.
He was awake. No longer dormant, no longer dulled by hunger and pain. Awake and ready to be free of his prison.