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The Great Journey: Chronicles of Grunt
The story behind my character, and continuing short stories every few days or so.
Chapter 9.5: Failure
Grunt runs through the snow at full speed, following the long trail of Corruption that led him about two miles away from Zero’s house. He suddenly got a feeling that surged over him. He wanted his rod back, and fast. Trying to forget it, he keeps running until he skids to a stop where the trail ends. Next to a small puddle of black goop, lies a sweater and pants, covered in blood. Next to both those things was a giant hole in the snow, where the clothes seemed to be falling into. It was over. The corruption had gotten her, and had spit her bloodstained clothes out of the snow covered hole of which it fed in. Grunt falls on his knees, and puts both his hands on his face. He couldn’t believe this happened and right under his nose. He cries out, and continually punches the ground out of anger. He wants to cry, but is so angry he couldn’t have if he tried. He swipes at the ground, and kicks the air, completely starting to lose control. After ten minutes of madness, he finally stops, and falls onto the ground. His eyes close, and he thinks of the wonderful times they have had together, and all the hurtful times they shared. After laying there in the snow for awhile, he shakily gets up, and starts to walk the other direction.

So painfully does he walk, in his complete shame and mixed emotions which comprised his mind. Starting to feel the guilt, and the weight of a death, of which no person should ever feel in a lifetime, he collapses once more, and cannot bear to stand until he has stood firm and just, and when he knows why he was put in such a dreadful, and unforgiving spot…It wasn’t his plan, it wasn’t anybody’s plan. It had happened, for every time he thought in that warm cozy abode of which he and his dear friend resided in, once upon a time. He knew there wasn’t a plan… he knew it was all meant to be played out in its own way, and things would happen as they should, or should not. For whom is to make assumptions from the twisted ways of life, and have everything go as planned? He didn’t plan this, no; he had brought this upon himself unknowingly. When coming across his true destiny in life, and realizing his real place on the cold, harsh planet he was cursed to live upon, he had stumbled upon the fact that no one truly had meaning. He was merely a speck, a minor inconvenience to the rest of the working planet, and made no difference to whether he was alive or not. Of course, some might say that this thought was a contradiction, and if that was the case, then every mortal shall serve no purpose as well. No, everything he had done in his past life as a demon, things he can no longer remember, had made no difference to anyone, anywhere. He was sure of it, and the same went for his mortal life. If someone truly understood…truly, they would tell him with no hesitation, his spot in life. He only lived by one thing now, a mortal name of which had no meaning, since Clover had all the answers he sought no more to see what he may be, and why everything was. Why? Because of one thing that separated him from the rest of all others… He was Amai Crowley the third, also known as “The Mad Grunt” or, what he chose to live by as a full name that still to him made no difference any longer. He was Mad Amadeus Grunt the third, cast down demon and now cursed to a life of meaningless mortality, and now, helplessly lost to ever find any of the answers he had dreamed of finding. He was going mad, and he couldn’t care less.

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