Mountain 4

As I was laying on the cold wooden floor in a daze, unable to catch a wink of sleep, a howling, freezing wind made its way inside the shack and sent chills down my spine for the third time that night, a night I had been experiencing again and again for the past month or so.

I obviously wouldn't be getting any more sleep that night, so I decided to put the time to good use.

I sat back up, legs crossed again.

Inhaling, I let my consciousness detach itself from the freezing temperatures and the harsh winter wind battering my body.

Again, I could see my lungs, vessels and arteries expand as though I had eyes inside my body. Alas, it only lasted for a few seconds before I snapped back. Though this time, the experience had been a little more pleasant than before, meaning I didn't feel like vomiting my guts out.

Though, it still left me with a vague sensation of motion sickness.

I layed down again, my head facing the decrepit ceiling. The voices the wind carried got louder, more desperate during nighttime making it nigh impossible to sleep. 

I gently raised my head, and looked out a window that was more of a hole in the wall.

"Please leave me alone" I pleaded with them. The voices quieted down for a second, before resuming their chatter.

At that point, I had no idea if what I was hearing were actual voices or voices from a psychosis induced by continuous sleep deprivation. Hearing voices made me unable to sleep and the lack of sleep made the voices worse, creating a sort of negative feedback loop.

The voices grew increasingly lowered with each passing second.

"Shut the fuck up!" I roared. Again, the voices remained quiet for a second. 

"What do you want from me? You're making me look like a schizo." 

Suddenly, every voice stopped. Every sound ceased to exist, creating a deep and unsettling silence. 

Like that, for a few seconds silence was all there was, nothing permeated the deep membrane of absolute stillness, that grabbed onto the world and submerged it deep within.

"You're desperate." A clear, angelic voice broke the silence. "Desperate as you are, it won't do you any good."

Upon hearing the voice, a frown formed on my face and my mouth opened to formulate a retort. Yet, even though my mouth clearly moved, no sound escaped, and the silence prevailed.

Though it was incorporeal, I could've sworn it grinned at my attempt to speak.

Then, it began speaking again.

"You overstayed your welcome. We sincerely question if you somehow lack the inherent human ability to think rationally. A choice has been offered to you. You chose wrong. Now you must see your choices through to the end. We truly pity you.

Your enigma will not be allowed to defile this sacred sanctuary any longer. For you, a stranger to this world, have upset the balance, and thereby need to be cleansed. Be not afraid however, you will merely be placed back into your rightful place.

Balance shall be restored, the scales cannot be tipped forever. All, in time, will return to us, including you, foolish and petulant child. 

Now, sleep, for your day of judgement draws ever near."

With that, the voice departed.

*

I woke up to mellow orange rays of sunlight bathing my skin. Softly opening my eyes, I was met with the familiar run down ceiling and the smell of rotting wood.

'That dream again?' I thought back at what happened last night, unable to distinguish dream from reality. 'My head is a mess though.'

My eyes had this terrible itch probably from the dust lining the whole room, so I tried bringing my left hand up to rub them, yet of course, nothing happened.

"Oh, right." I looked at where my arm used to be. I could've sworn it felt itchy too.

I got up and went outside. Last night I dismembered a small critter and stored it under the snow. My hunting skills had gotten better the last few months, I was now able to not only skin animals but also gut them without gagging.

Cooking them was a whole different ballpark though.

I scoured under the snow until I found the black and crispy piece of meat I may or may not have overcooked the night prior, then proceeded to bite into it.

It tasted like, well, burnt meat. I definitely needed to improve my cooking skills so I could survive on this mountain.

At that point I had a deep suspicion that the mountain was messing with me for whatever twisted reason. Thus, I reasoned that any further excursions into the unknown would lead me to an early snowy grave. Besides, I had nowhere to go anyway.

Therefore, the best decision was to stay put, and wait for summer. This was something I'd decided on long ago.

Though, now my only worries were my own hunger.

As I sat outside and bit down on the meat, I stared out into the distance, not particularly looking at anything, nothing looking back at me either.

My mind was numb. I ate the burnt meal with no other thoughts apart from training. No thoughts of nearly dying thrice over, no regrets in losing a limb. Undoubtedly, these repressed emotions would resurface, but for now, the jumble that was my mind proved to be my only comfort in a hostile and unfamiliar place.

'Back to training I guess.'

Finishing the meal, I stood near the overhang's edge with my legs crossed. I began to cut off everything again - something which proved to become easier and easier as time went on - and focused inside. 

I could feel everything clicking into place. Lungs, heart, arteries, muscles. All visible and almost tangible, but still ethereal, as though I was looking at them through reinforced glass.

 I could look, yet I could not interact. 

The trance was broken by a piercing cold pricking my skin. Just as soon as it arrived however, it disappeared. Leaving behind only a trace of discomfort.

I focused again. The cutting off of stimuli vaguely reminded me of how dead calm functioned. The only difference was that this was something deeper, it cut off the surroundings more crudely. As though disconnecting myself from the very world around me in every way conceivable.

This gave me an idea.

I got up and stopped the technique. Heading back inside the shack, I retrieved my sword and unsheath it.

I assumed a stance, then used total concentration.

"Water Breathing, Eleventh form, Dead Calm. Overload."

My movements ceased and my breathing became even. A sense of clarity washed over as blood began accumulating in my arm. 

I cut off all stimuli again, focusing solely on the blood flowing through every vein of my arm. Then I focused on one at a time.

Then I saw it. The one fault of overload. 

The blood flowed wildly, with no direction, the carefully crafted circulatory system all humans had was thrown into disarray. Blood flowed backwards. The sheer number of red blood cells caused veins to clot and burst, leading to internal bleeding. How this didn't kill us was a mystery.

I stopped both techniques and looked at my arm again.

'This is it. I can fix this.'