Hello. Today was not so good.


    Ok, I''ll be honest. It was straight up bad.


    When I woke up and tried to crawl out of my hidey-hole a blazing spike of pain stabbed directly from my foot to my head.


    I guess in all of the excitement of making fire and fighting yesterday I never really checked on the place the not-not grabbed me. The wound itself was just a small but deep cut on the side of my calf. It was clearly infected though. Pretty badly too.


    My whole leg up to mid-thigh was swollen and red. And the wound itself was oozing pus and black blood.


    Which is my least favorite kind of blood to ooze.


    So, what could I even do? I had nothing but a journal, pen, and satchel. Nothing to clean a wound with. Nothing to cut off a gangrenous limb with either.


    I am naked and truly filthy, and I think touching an already infected wound with my gunk encrusted hands is a very bad idea. So, the only other thing I could think of that might be of use were the mysterious Tingles. ''Well, it can hardly make it worse now can it?'' I thought.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    I was so, so wrong.


    I marshalled my Tingles into a roaring buzz right below and behind my sternum. I pushed that rumbling mass down through my body to my groin. Then I directed it down my leg to the infected bits.


    It freaking hurt! Pain lanced through me like lightning through the copper house of a blasphemer!


    But it was working! The redness and swelling had begun retreating back down to my foot. I could hardly believe my fortune! I was going to be alright!


    Or so I thought.


    However, when the swelling and redness had receded to the area near the wound itself it wouldn''t go any further, and my foot had become swollen to a truly grotesque degree. In desperation and fear I pushed the Tingles with more force than ever before. If before had been a slow but firm push, then this was a body slam.


    And the wound exploded.


    White-yellow pus and black-red gunk splattered against the ceiling of my hidey-hole, and flames gushed from the now gaping wound on my ankle. I passed out.


    When I woke up, which I was surprised to do, my foot was bleeding profusely.


    I must not have been out for very long; because there wasn''t much pooled around it yet. Wearily, I wrapped the strap of my satchel around the wound. Binding it as tightly as my quivering arms and fumbling fingers could manage, and then I sent a couple of Tingles to the area in hopes of somehow healing and closing the wound.


    I don''t know if I will wake up should I fall asleep once again, but my body it shaking and my mind is aching. So I am going to seek shelter in sleep.


    Goodnight me, don''t die.