It was the annual family christmas gathering and it was being held at my Aunt and Uncle’s place, downtown in their nice condo. We were several floors up in the sprawling complex and it was a beautiful evening with the huge bay windows overlooking the snow covered city. The whole extended family was there, as they always are, my Dad's brother and sister with their respective spouses, children, and children’s children along with my immediate family of ten and their respective wives and children. As always, the atmosphere is warm and festive, the christmas tree and the room tastefully decorated for the season and snacks piled up on the kitchen counter, ready to be eaten. Of the kids of my generation, besides my two younger adopted sisters, I was the only one who was not married.

However, with me today was my girlfriend, and she sat next to me with my arm wrapped around her shoulders in the loveseat. I had brought her last year too, to virtually the exact same gathering where I had first introduced her to all the extended family. She had blended in well with everybody, a little shy at first with my loud, and fun family, but she eventually got used to it. I had been dating her for a year and a half now and she was practically one of us at this point. I vaguely recall breaking up with her earlier that year, but we had worked it out and had gotten back together.

I now sit and bask in the warmth of the moment, neither of us speaking (we weren’t much socialites in general), but sitting back and absorbing the joyous atmosphere together. I turn and look at her and notice that her long red hair that she usually kept in an easy ponytail was down and lightly curled for the occasion. She was also wearing a little make up around her eyes and cheeks giving her an lovely rosy complexion. She was also wearing that necklace I had given her last christmas along with a dark grey sweater that complimented her nicely. Apparently sensing my gaze she turned to me with her freckled face and gave me a bright warm smile that melted my heart.

But then there was something wrong, there was an urgency about her. We needed to get going, and fast. Soon she was driving, which was really unusual as I always drove us everywhere. She was also driving like a madwoman to, like I had never seen her drive before. Her urgency was infectious.

It was night, and it was lightly raining, the headlights of her car illuminating the puddles and raindrops as they fell onto the hard pitted asphalt of the road. We were in the shadier part of town, where the pot holes were left unattended longer and parked cars were everywhere. She was driving too fast for my taste, I thought that at any moment she would ram into one of the stationary cars in the dim light, but she never did. Large splashes of water from the puddles she ran through would wash over the front window, blinding us momentarily, but she paid it no mind and calmly kept the car moving quickly.

I was stressed and anxious at what we were doing, but it seemed right and an odd sort of determination filled me. Whatever it was, we were doing it together.

Somebody was chasing us, it seemed. And, I think we were tracking somebody too. Eventually, we did stop and she pulled over to the side of the road on a random street. We had found what we were looking for.

She had gotten out, and started talking to a uniformed officer, both standing in the rain, barely seen in our car’s headlights. I didn't get out though, I was too tired. I could hardly catch my breath, not after all that running I just did. In blazing hot days like this it was almost torture to play ultimate frisbee, the sun itself burning the top of my head where my hair was receding. I didn’t like the idea of putting sunscreen up there, but I guess it was time to face reality.

Still, my lungs felt like they were burning, I could not get enough air. My mild exercise induced asthma was kicking in, usually it only happens in cold weather, but being frustrated is a real catalyst for it. And, boy, was I frustrated now. I had won the first two games of racquetball against this older guy. He was around my dad’s age, but I took him pretty readily the first game and then barely got him the second. The next three proved too much for me as my competitive spirit and immature attitude kicked in and I couldn’t handle the frustration. I should have beaten him, but the longer we played the worse I became and the better he got.

I was so frustrated, and angry, I could feel the tears starting to come as they always do when I feel this way. Ashamed now, I turn away, forfeiting the rest of the match, trying to collect myself and catch my breath. I was choking up, my windpipe constricting in stubbornness.

I take deep breaths, but I am not getting enough oxygen. I can’t breathe, I can’t get any air, something is covering my mouth, like a pillow, like I was being suffocated like in One flew over the cuckoo's nest.

I CAN’T BREATHE!

I wake up and quickly realize that I actually can’t breathe. It’s super disorienting and I also think the lack of oxygen is disrupting my ability to think clearly. A dull little sunlight is making its way through the blinds, but my mind is entirely attuned to my burning lungs.

I panic and thrash around on my bed, my hands moving up to my throat is if I was being choked. But I am not being choked from the outside, I am being suffocated from within. I try coughing, but there is nothing there to work with. I start seeing blackness and realize I am about to pass out and then die. Something is clogging my esophagus.

Then it hits me like a 70 mile an hour freight train and I weakly mouth before I pass out, “cleanse”.

I can feel the mass in my lungs and esophagus start to dissolve and I take gasping breaths even as it has yet to be cleared entirely. It causes me to start coughing erratically, but soon enough my passageway is clear and I can breathe for real.

Jeez. Deep breathes, in and out, in and out.

I almost just died.

Again.

I stare up with a scowl at the little (1) in the top left corner of my vision. I open it up and sure enough it is an infection notice. This is bad news for me, if I can’t go several hours without being suffocated to death then I am going to have a real hard time getting rest in. The fear of death while asleep might keep me awake now anyway.

My ears are ringing and I lay back on my bed, rubbing my face with my hands, trying to wake myself up completely. And to commiserate with myself over my many issues.

The first is that my ex-girlfriend appeared in my dreams again. I had never bought into the whole subconscious ideas making themselves real in dreams before, but after breaking up with her I see my own fantasies being played out about once a month with her in it. I can hardly believe it, much less admit to anybody else that I, apparently, had not gotten over her yet. Especially when I was the one who broke up with her.

I mean actually, she broke up with me, but technically I broke up with her as I was the one that said, “we should break up.” But she forced my hand. After dating her for a year, I had finally screwed up the courage to tell her I loved her. I was so worried about what I would have to do after she replied that she loved me too, that I never considered that she might not.

And in fact, she did not reciprocate my feelings and she made it clear in no uncertain terms that she did not think she could come to love me and and didn’t think that I was a potential husband for her.

I took it very well, actually, I was so stunned by her revelation that I was cordial, understanding, caring, and pragmatic all the way until I dropped her off at her front door and never saw her again.

I didn't cry until I was halfway home.

My family all agrees that she was the villain in the relationship and supported me through my grief. That said, I was not in any way angry at her. She stated her reasons clearly and what she was looking for in a man and I did not blame her for what she was looking for. I could only regret that I did not have the qualities she wanted, but another part of me didn’t want to be that anyway. I had just misread her completely because I am a dense idiot.

I truly believe with all my heart that our breakup was the best for both of us. I just wish she would stop appearing in my dreams. That stalker.

Finally stable and aware of my bearings, I shake my head and look around my room. I am shocked at what I see.

Mom, it looks like you were right again. There are mushrooms growing in my laundry. And everywhere else in my room.

As I was looking around, my four walls and room (not to mention the floor) were decomposing around me.

Dang, I can’t let this happen, especially after I beat off an entire gang of thugs with knives for this turf. This is my turf, I’m not letting some shrooms take it away!

I jump out of bed and immediately start cleansing everything within reach. I literally can’t afford to let my room fall apart, that would leave me exposed. And, thinking about it for a moment, I was stupid not to have realized it earlier. Of course all this stuff is going to get attacked, its mostly organic too. Considering how fast Pesos went, I’m surprised it took even this long.

I had gone for my walls first, the structure of the place. If those fall apart, I am a real goner. Dark green stains were starting to encroach everywhere too, so I put my hands up against the wall and shouted, “cleanse” as if shouting the skill would make it work harder.

I don't want to think about how much the wood has already deteriorated, but I push lightly against the walls and it doesn't fall down. That’s good enough for me.

Soon, my room is being filled with a fine gray dust, but I can’t do anything about that. At least it is a clean dust. I’ll have to tell my mom that next time she remarks on the dust in my home.

Getting to all the nooks and crannies of my room was tricky, but I believe, worth it. I don’t know how long I am going to be here, but I want my stuff to last as long as it can. Even my dirty laundry.

…

Although, sense I just cleansed it, can it still be considered dirty laundry? Now, that is food for thought. And speaking of food…

Man, I am starving.

It is still light out, so I guess it is still the same day as before, Saturday, if Saturday even exists here. I head outside, after a quick peek out my window and doors. There is no army of zombies waiting for me but their corpses are still out here. Ewwwwww. There are a lot of them and they don’t even have the decency to just compose away and disappear in a few hours. They are just as ugly and rotten as I had left them. The bones from the skeletons are left untouched too. That doesn't seem right.

I’m going to have to ignore them for now I don’t have the energy to move them anyway. Humans are supposed to last for days, I think, without food , but I really don’t feel that way right now. Besides, I am a very skinny guy, I have never been able to put on weight. I suppose that will change after I hit thirty, but that hasn’t happened yet. I could use those few pounds now…

I ignore the battlefield and start cleansing the outside of my bedroom. It might be overkill, but I’ve got the mp for it now. I can spare it to make doubly sure my stronghold won’t collapse on me.

Thinking about the sleeping problem though, if I really can’t sleep for a few hours without having the fungi try to kill me then I am going to be in for a rough time. But I think there is something else at play here. My whole room was filled with the fungi and I was breathing it in the entire time. It had had over twelve hours of this place to get infected. However, if I can keep it clean in the future and think that will solve the problem and increase the time limit before I get infected. It seems reasonable and is worth a shot. Plus, I think I will set my phone alarm for three hours after I fall asleep, to check my infection rate. I don’t have much battery left, but this seems like a worthy cause.

I have cleansed my four walls, but I can’t get to my roof, it is too high up and my ladder didn’t come with me. Additionally, there are no large climbable trees nearby to get up there. I’ll just have to do a good job from below and hope nothing falls on it. Does it even rain here? Who knows.

With that issue out of the way now, I can no longer ignore my stomach. The truth is, I have had an idea for food for a while now, but I was hoping I could delay and come up with something else. Unfortunately, I could not, which leaves me looking ruefully down past my house, out towards the way of the small stream.

And the Wynots. I can’t get the image out of my head of the slightly cooked Wynot. That’s right, It's come down to killing and eating the creature that was bent on killing and eating me. Isn’t that lovely.

Part of me is wishing that they will not be edible, just the thought of those horrid slimy tentacles wrapped around me makes me shiver. But the other part of me, specifically, my stomach part, wishes it will taste like chicken. Nummy, nummy, chicken.

With a sigh I head back to my room and grab thor's hammer and I also grab one of the two knives I looted from the skeletons. Not that I would know, but the knife doesn’t appear to be that special. It has a short solid handle made of metal that is barely long enough to grab securely. There is no guard, just a foot long jagged and crusted blade, sharp on both sides. I inspect it a moment and then use cleanse on it. Most of the crustiness comes off, but it doesn't help much. I wonder briefly if this was the one that stabbed me, but then I look at the other and I can’t tell. Oh well, it's not like it matters.

I check my mp for a sec and then activate flare, looking at it as the skill coats the weapon. After a little experimentation I find I am able to focus the skill on just a part of the blade if I want to, the blade, the edge, the tip, whatever. As soon as I let go though, it disappears. I guess no projectiles for me than, that’s a bummer. I still had dreams of getting my paintball marker up and running and shooting flare covered projectiles against my enemies, but I guess that will never be.

The blade is not that sharp, I have a kitchen knife that is sharper, but it will do. And perhaps sharpness doesn’t matter with the flare skill anyway.

There are no sheathes for my knives, which is disappointing, and I don't have the patience right now to try to rig something up. So I tuck thor’s hammer into my belt and keep my new blade out. I won’t name you now, but it you perform well, I’ll give you that honor. Work well for me my minion.

I wait for my mp to max out and then sigh and shake my head one last time. Here goes nothing.

I head out to the stream again, still careful as there my be more horrors out there or just more zombies and skeletons. But I encounter nothing but more infection notifications. Seriously, whoever designed this place was a terrible person. There is no way anybody who did not have the cleanse skill or something similar would ever survive. And, considering how weak the mobs are, this is still probably a starter zone.

…

Assuming this is a video game.

…

I’m going to stop thinking about complicated things until I get some food in my stomach. And if this doesn't work, I guess that will be never, so good. Constant existential crises is not good for the soul, you gotta take a break every once in a while.

I reach the location where I had been attacked last time and reluctantly look towards the spot where I had left that wynot for dead. Sure enough, there is a slight bump of mass there, covered in mushrooms and other fungi. It looks like it is decomposing nicely, unlike the zombies or skeletons. I take this as a good sign, that if the mushrooms want to eat it, it must be good.

Now, how to get the wynots out? The obvious way is to walk along the stream until another wynot does the physics defying jump at my face. I’d really like to avoid this tactic, considering how painful my last experience was, but as I stare out into the green murky depths, I really don’t see any other option. It's not like I can take a piece of my flesh and dangle it into the stream, hoping to get a bite on the line. Jeeze, that image is awful.

With another scowl, I tense up and prepare for the worst. I can feel my heart beating quickly again, I don’t think my heart has ever gotten this much use in a single day before. I start edging close to the stream and then start edging slowly up it. I can feel sweat starting to drip down my face as I look for any movement.

…

As Willy Wonka said, “The suspense is killing me! I hope it will last.”

…

Oh my god, this is so much worse than those stupid jump scare games where you know that the little beast on the screen is going to jump out and scream at you, but you can’t do anything about it. In fact, I am about to pull back and recoup myself, my nerves are not taking this well-

Like a demon out of hell a wynot launches out of the water as if tied to a rocket booster, aiming straight at my face, its open mouth and tentacles wiggling in anticipation.

I scream, yet again, like a dying banshee and I can’t help but crumple and fall away from the incoming projectile. I even manage to stab myself in the shoulder with the knife I was carrying as I fell down. Brilliant, man. Maybe I should have left the sharp knives to the professionals.

Still, despite my face having dropped several feet from its previous location, the wynot appeared to have a guidance system which alters its course toward my face. From the sudden pain of stabbing myself, I lose concentration and am unable to get either hand up to block. I am only able to turn my face away as it hits me.

The pain is unbearable, whatever neurotoxins it has works very well as my left side of my face feels like it is getting melted off. I let go of my knife and bring both hands up while screaming with everything I have.

Fortunately, with what little cognitive functions I have remaining, I am able to piece together what needs to be done and execute a plan. Kill it with fire.

While cleanse isn’t really fire, I think it will work just fine for what I want to have happen.

I coat my entire body with cleanse, trying to focus my efforts specifically on my face and hands. I seize the creature just as it was letting go of my face with its tendrils, trying to escape.

I do not let it go, but hold it squarely, cleansing the beast as fast as possible, and boy it is not going silently. The most god awful high pitched insufferable noise is coming from it as it slowly shrivels and blackens under my skill. It is just awful, truly horrifying. I can see its little mouth twitching as I hold it out in front of me.

I feel sick, but maybe it’s just my raw and bloody face.

Without even checking my mp, I quickly say, “heal” and make that pain go away. Oh sweet, sweet relief, like painkillers for a toothache.

Soon, the creature stops screaming and then struggling altogether. It falls limp, completely black and burnt, most of its body shriveled away during the process apparently. All of its tendrils are gone, leaving only a lump that was his main body and mouth. Good God, this had better have been worth it.

I groan once its over and stand up slowly, wincing at the sharp pain in my shoulder. Oh yeah, I had stabbed myself there. How dumb can I get? I probably should have died here again.

I pull the knife out angrily, but I don’t heal it up. I don’t have the mp currently, I used up a lot more in cooking this than I thought I would. Either that, or healing my face was pretty costly. Fortunately, it is not bleeding much.

I take the knife and stab it into my kill like a skewer and with a sigh I walk back to my home. Considering how much this thing shrank as I cleansed it, it will take quite a few of these to keep me fed. Assuming it’s even edible in the first place.

I make it back to my place with no problem and enter my room, slamming it shut behind me. First, I heal my shoulder and then I grab my plastic container and dump my prize into it. Taking my knife, I start dissecting it.

The most prominent part of this body is its mouth and jaw bones which I carefully pry out. Its unsetting to see those sharp teeth looking as if to chomp down on me at any second. As far as I can tell though, there are no other bones in this thing for which I am grateful. Further dissection only finds a solid lump of cooked flesh with no distinguishable parts. I sniff it, but don’t smell anything one way or another. I give it one last cleanse for good measure and then cut off a bite size chunk. I only hesitate for a moment before I plunge it into my mouth.

And then I chew on it.

…

And chew and chew and chew and chew. Eventually I swallow, and then take a drink of water to wash it down. Do you know what? It didn’t taste like chicken.