The Wrath of Man
The Wrath of Man
The Wrath of Man
His grubby, tattered white shirt was now besmeared with dark stains of wet
mud. He could feel himself drowning within the murky waters of his feeble
mind. Drops of water and sweat were tossed through the air, like vegetables
in a food processor. He hurriedly clambered onto a thick branch of a tree,
and hid himself behind it. The trepidation in his shrieked gasps, was almost
palpable. The fearful clacking of his teeth, could be felt. Roposo had come to
investigate the ruins of a supposed ancient civilization, flourishing
somewhere in the depths of the Amazon, but in the middle of this
enthralling adventure, the advent of a cyclone had thwarted his dreams.
Water dripped down from his forehead, as he dragged himself back to the
camp. He heard the bushes rustle and the leaves crackle, and turned around
with lightning speed, to notice a tall, muscular man, with a vermilion mark
on his forehead, and tatted in radiant crimson. He held a spear, with a bone-
white, pointy tip, which almost resembled the claws of a grizzly. His
menacing, fearless eyes faced Raposo's surprised yet despondent ones. The
man blew a loud horn, which echoed in the menacing night sky. Loud
growling and howls, like wolves, responded to the signal. In no time, the one
single man, was now near ten others, who shared the same disgust and
fearlessness. The tension was now almost discernible. Raposo was terrified.
Unaware of his surroundings, he stumbled onto a rock, and lay on the
ground. Their faces gleamed under the moonlight, as they stood imposing.
They began to stomp ahead, in unison, as if it were an army march. He
quickly picked himself up, his face and shirt covered in mud, and jolted
behind into the darkness, destination unknown. He could clearly hear the
menacing stomping of them behind him, but did not dare look behind. He
climbed atop a tree branch, his breathing still heavy and his hands still
trembling. There wasn't a moment of silence, much like an unrelenting
nightmare. His mind was drowning with all sorts of emotions, and teardrops
of despair, trickled down his face. He sat atop the branch for a few
moments, until his curiosity had soon got the best of him.
In consternation, he tried to peak, but a strong gush of wind threw him onto
the ground. His agonizing screams could be heard for miles away. At that
moment, the thunder roared ferociously, under the shimmering rays of the
moon. A wolf pack must have run rampant that night.