The boy lay flat on his back, feeling the cool stone beneath him as he gradually regained his senses. His left hand pulsed with pain—he recalled the injury and the blood—but it was more than just the hurt. It was the sight of the wound that made him feel weak. He could sense his heartbeat in his fingers, his skin damp, and the air heavy with the scents of earth and sweat.
When he finally opened his eyes, he was surprised to see a strange sight—a slimy, orange creature, covered in mucus, sticking to his left hand. It was the one that had struck him with the stone, wasn’t it? But now was not the time for questions. With a swift motion, he jerked his arm, sending the creature crashing against the cave wall. It hit with a soft thud, letting out a weak moan.
“Peeooor…,” it whined, its voice almost sorrowful.
He sat up, his hands shaking. His gaze fell on his injury, and he noticed something peculiar. The gash on his hand had… healed. A scar had formed where there had once been blood, the edges singed as if it had been cauterized. He stared, bewildered, a shiver running through him. How could this have happened?
The creature. It must have done something to him, right? Yet, if it hadn’t, he would have bled out.
A wave of guilt washed over him. He had thrown it away. Now, it appeared so… vulnerable. The boy hesitated, looking at the creature curled up in the corner, making faint sounds. That pitiful noise tugged at something inside him. Its squirming suggested it was frightened.
He sighed, then cautiously approached, his hands still shaking. The creature felt unusually warm against his palms, a slick, squishy mass that bulged slightly as if it might slip through his fingers at any moment. He tightened his grip, careful not to crush it. It reminded him of George, the cat he once had—small, furry, and comforting.
“George,” he whispered, naming it. It emitted a sound that resembled a purr. A soft, comforting noise that made the boy feel, for a brief moment, less alone.
The cave around him was immense—he guessed it to be several stories high, like the ancient city in Africa he had seen in documentaries. The walls stretched high above him, vanishing into darkness, and icicle-shaped stones hung from the ceiling. He couldn’t see where they ended, but he assumed they were enormous, their jagged tips dangling like natural chandeliers. Jagged rocks protruded from the walls, as if trying to escape, their sharp edges glinting with faint light. The air was thick with a musty, earthy odor, stale and heavy, as though the cave had not been disturbed in ages.
The boy felt a pang of sadness in his chest. The creature, small and delicate, was likely just as lost as he was in this vast, oppressive cavern. He hadn’t intended to harm it. In fact, it had saved his life, and now it was here, suffering in the cold space. Sympathy washed over him.
But then, his stomach growled—a harsh reminder of the hunger consuming him. He couldn’t recall much—his mind was foggy—but he remembered where he came from. That was something.
He looked ahead. Three paths lay before him: one to the left, one to the right, and one straight ahead. His thoughts raced as he tried to make sense of the situation. Water. If he found water, he could find food. Perhaps plants or mushrooms—he wasn’t certain, but it was something.
His stomach growled again, louder this time, a sharp reminder that time was of the essence. He didn’t have all the answers, and standing still wouldn’t help.
With a sigh, he made his choice. The path on the far right.
George, still in his hands, wiggled slightly, as if sensing his decision. The boy tightened his grip gently, silently promising the strange creature that had rescued him.
They had no idea where the path would take them, but together, they would discover it.
The boy’s stomach twisted with hunger, and his dry throat ached with thirst. He scanned the darkness around him, straining to catch any sound that might indicate the presence of water. But the only sounds he heard were the echoes of his own footsteps bouncing off the cave walls, mocking him with their emptiness.
George remained tightly held in his arms, providing the only warmth he could sense. Yet, even that warmth failed to dispel the cold creeping up his feet, his body completely exhausted from walking for so long. The cave extended endlessly, its dark presence oppressive, but he continued onward, dragging himself forward, his hand scraping against the rough stone walls for support.
Hours went by. The boy was uncertain how much time had actually passed, but the silence of the cave felt as though it was consuming him. He searched tirelessly until, at last, his eyes caught sight of something small—a faint hint of brown among the stones.
“A mushroom!” he exclaimed, his voice echoing throughout the cavern. His heart swelled with hope. He quickly crouched down, pulling the small mushroom from the ground, his fingers quivering with eagerness.
Just as he was ready to take a bite, his scoutmaster’s warning suddenly flashed in his mind. “Don’t eat mushrooms you’re unsure about. Some can be poisonous.” He paused, holding the mushroom up to the dim light. It was small and brown, not particularly appetizing, but in this moment, it was the only thing he could find.
Taking a deep breath, he shrugged. “What choice do I have?”
He bit into it, chewing quickly. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was sustenance. Without hesitation, he offered a piece to George, who quickly absorbed it into his slimy form with a satisfied, “Peeeeeooor.” The boy smiled faintly. At least George seemed to enjoy it.
As he continued along the path, he discovered more mushrooms, and with every step, he collected them, stuffing them in his pocket for later. Some were blue, a color he had never encountered before, but he wasn’t sure what they might do, so he decided to keep them just in case. He made a point to avoid the red ones, recalling his scoutmaster’s caution. Sticking to the brown mushrooms, he munched on them as he walked, the dull hunger in his stomach slowly starting to fade, though his thirst persisted.
Then, a distant sound caught his attention. The gentle, rhythmic crashing of water. His ears perked up, and he involuntarily quickened his pace. The sound grew louder with each step, the promise of relief motivating him. His heartbeat raced as he moved more quickly, his feet pounding against the ground in time with the approaching rush of water.
Around a bend, the boy gasped. There it was—a waterfall, cascading into a pool below. The sight nearly made him forget the aches in his body. “It’s a waterfall, George!” he shouted in pure delight, his eyes sparkling in the cave light as he gazed at the flowing water. He had never been happier to see anything in his life.
Without hesitation, he dashed to the edge of the pool. George slipped from his hands, landing lightly on the cave floor, but the boy didn’t even notice. His thirst was overpowering. He cupped his hands, eagerly slurping up the water, his throat soaking it up hungrily. It was cold and refreshing, washing away the dryness that had clung to him for what felt like forever.
Before the boy could fully shake off the weight of his thoughts, he reached down and cupped some water in his hands, offering it to George. The slime hesitated, then cautiously backed away, its tiny form trembling. The boy furrowed his brow, confused for a moment.
“Of course, he’s fearful of water,” the boy realized. “He’s a fire-type slime after all… But wait—those only exist in video games. THIS ISN’T A GAME.”
The realization struck him like a cold slap. The gravity of the truth descended upon him all at once. This wasn’t a game. He wasn’t merely playing out a story or fantasy. George wasn’t an imaginary creature—this was reality. And he was alone in a peculiar world.
Suddenly, a wave of questions overwhelmed him. Where was he? Why was he here? What had happened? And… where were his parents? How had he ended up in this strange, dark cave? The silence surrounding him only heightened the uncertainty. He had no answers, just an overwhelming sense of being lost.
His heart sank as the weight of his isolation struck him all at once. He had no answers. He was alone in an uncharted world, with only George to keep him company.
The sound of the waterfall reverberated against the cave walls, constantly reminding him of how far away he was from home. Tears filled his eyes as the fear of complete solitude loomed over him. He curled up on the ground, his knees hugged to his chest, and wept. His shoulders trembled as the burden of confusion, fear, and loneliness broke through his will.
George gradually moved closer, gently nudging him with his slick body, as if trying to console him. The boy felt the creature’s gentle touch on his back, a small reassurance that he was not entirely alone. Although it was a minor gesture, it made him feel less empty and less forsaken.
The boy sniffled, using the back of his hand to wipe his eyes. “Yeah… crying won’t solve anything,” he murmured to himself. He could not remain in the cave, lost and frightened. He needed to be stronger than this. He had to discover a way out, find someone who could assist him, or at least comprehend his situation.
With newfound resolve, he stood up, clearing away the last of the tears from his eyes. He held George in his hands, feeling the warmth from the creature’s body penetrate his skin. He gazed down at the little slime, his only companion in this vast, unfamiliar territory. “We’re going to get through this, George. We will endure. No matter what comes our way.”
And with that, he turned away from the waterfall, prepared to confront whatever the cave had planned for him next.
