Who is Marcel?

Marcel trudged down the narrow street, his shoulders slumped as the wind began to pick up, carrying with it the faint, musky scent of wet fur.

The street was a patchwork of cracked asphalt and uneven cobblestones, flanked by weathered brick buildings that leaned slightly, as if weary from decades of standing.

Faded graffiti splashed across the walls added bursts of color to the otherwise dull gray surroundings, while flickering streetlamps cast long, dancing shadows in the dim evening light.

The air was thick with the mingling smells of damp earth, stale garbage, and the faint metallic tang of rust from the old iron fences lining the sidewalks.

He barely had time to react before a stray pit bull locked eyes with him.

"Oh no... not again!?" The pit bull lunged toward him, and Marcel took off running.

This would make it the third animal this week to attack him.

The dog barked fiercely, snapping at his heels as Marcel quickened his pace.

He cursed under his breath, his heart racing, wondering when the world would finally give him a break.

Losing his footing as he jumped over a branch, he stumbled and landed face-first on the ground, but adrenaline kept him moving. He scrambled to his feet and kept running, not daring to look back.

After a while, he realized the dog had probably stopped chasing him some time ago.

His adrenaline had been too high to notice.

"Is it because I'm frail and nerdy-looking? Is that why everyone, even animals, picks on me? Darn it!!!" Marcel muttered, frustration boiling over.

With a sudden burst of anger, he screamed, "If only I were stronger, bigger, braver... maybe then I'd get some respect around here!"

Just as he brushed himself off, a voice called out to him.

"Oi, oi, isn't that poor little Marcy?"

Marcel recognized the voice instantly, it was Andy, his neighbor and longtime tormentor.

He heard other voices chiming in. Andy's friends, no doubt.

Marcel forced a smile, his voice cracking as he hunched his shoulders and placed a hand on his throbbing head.

"Hey, Andy. I don't have your money right now. I was just heading to Grandma's."

He tried to laugh it off, hoping to buy himself some time, even as blood dripped from a cut on his forehead.

The pain from his fall and the awkwardness of the situation made his stomach churn.

"You look like a wreck.

And I don't care what you're up to today.

I told you I'd smack you if you didn't get me my money," Andy said, his tone calm but menacing as he stepped closer.

Marcel instinctively backed away, his hands rising defensively.

Andy swung a heavy fist at Marcel's face, but Marcel ducked just in time, the air whistling past his ear.

Andy growled, throwing another punch, this time aiming for Marcel's ribs.

Marcel sidestepped, his heart pounding, his body trembling with fear.

"Stop moving, you little rat!" Andy barked, his frustration mounting.

Marcel's breath came in short, panicked gasps as he dodged a third strike, Andy's fist grazing his shoulder.

But Andy was relentless.

With a swift, calculated move, he feinted left and then drove his fist into Marcel's jaw.

Thwack!

Marcel's head snapped to the side, his vision blurring.

He stumbled, barely staying on his feet, but Andy wasn't done.

He grabbed Marcel by the hair and drove his knee into Marcel's face, breaking his nose with a sickening crunch.

Marcel's eyes rolled back, and he was about to collapse, but Andy held him up, unleashing a series of brutal blows to his already bloodied face.

"Don't you think you're going too far, Andy?" Zeke, one of Andy's friends, said calmly.

Andy paused for a second, then released Marcel's hair. A loud thud echoed as Marcel's body hit the ground, unconscious.

No one around stepped in to help.

They all went about their business, indifferent to Marcel's suffering.

After a while, Marcel stirred, struggling to sit up.

He wiped his bloodied face with his shirt and tried to stand, but a cat suddenly pounced on him, clawing at his back and clinging to him.

He was too weak to fight it off.

"Sorry about that," a female voice said from behind as the cat was pulled away.

Marcel turned slowly, as the lady hurriedly moved away.

"Must've been the cat's owner," he muttered.

He picked himself up, watching as people continued their shopping, completely unfazed by what had just happened.

Tears welled up in his eyes, mixing with the blood on his face, and he let out a loud, anguished cry.

A few people glanced his way, but they quickly turned back to their own lives.

Overwhelmed by rage and sorrow, Marcel started running, with no destination in mind.

He found himself in the forest, tripping over roots and branches, his arm grazing against a sharp twig.

"Arghhhhhhhh!" he screamed, collapsing against an oak tree, his back pressed against its rough bark.

As he tried to catch his breath, a sudden, earth-shaking thud echoed through the forest.

Marcel barely had time to react before a massive moose emerged from the thicket, its enormous antlers scraping against tree trunks as it charged straight at him.

Marcel's eyes widened, his heart pounding. His body froze in fear.

"Not now... please, not now," Marcel muttered under his breath, but it was too late.

The moose charged, its hooves pounding the ground like thunder.

Marcel darted to the side, narrowly avoiding the first strike.

The moose's antlers gouged into the tree behind him, sending splinters flying.

Marcel's legs trembled as he scrambled to his feet, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

The moose turned, its eyes wild, and charged again.

Marcel dove behind a bush, his body shaking uncontrollably.

The moose crashed through the bush, its antlers missing Marcel by inches.

Marcel rolled to his feet, his heart racing.

He could feel the fear coursing through him, but he forced himself to keep moving.

The moose reared up, its massive body towering over him.

Marcel stumbled backward, his legs giving out as he fell to the ground.

The moose's hooves came down, narrowly missing him as he rolled to the side.

With a guttural grunt, the moose crashed into him, knocking the wind from his lungs.

Marcel was slammed against a tree, the impact rattling his bones.

The moose backed up slightly, preparing for another strike.

Desperation took over.

Marcel's hand scrambled through the underbrush, searching for anything to defend himself.

His fingers closed around a jagged stick, thin but strong, its end broken into a sharp point.

The moose twisted its massive head, its antlers sweeping across Marcel's body. Pain shot through him like a bullet, and he felt his ribs crack under the pressure.

The moose's weight pinned him to the tree, its hot breath clouding the air around him. Its teeth were bared, ready to crush him.

Marcel's pulse quickened.

With every ounce of strength he had left, he thrust the stick upward, aiming for the moose's eye.

The stick sank deep, piercing the eye.

The moose let out a deafening bellow of pain, its enormous body jerking back.

Marcel's breath came in ragged gasps, his vision spinning from the force of the impact. The moose shook its head violently, trying to dislodge the stick.

With a terrifying, bone-shaking force, it slammed its head into the nearest tree.

The stick drove even deeper, piercing through flesh and bone, straight into the skull.

The moose let out a low, guttural moan before collapsing to the ground, its legs buckling beneath it.

Marcel, still kneeling, leaned against the tree.

The weight of the moment settled on him as he sat there, breathing slowly, each breath painful.

His mind was a whirlwind of chaos and disbelief.

He began to smile.

For the first time, he had fought back.

For the first time, he had won, even if it was sheer luck.

Something he never thought possible.

And yet, as the weight of the moment pressed down on him, he felt a strange elation.

"Why am I not passing out? Why don't I feel the pain like before?" he wondered.

His gaze fell to the moose's lifeless body, now partially wrapped in a blanket of roses.

The vibrant blue and red petals seemed to pulse with life, their colors deepening as they spread across the carcass.

The sight was surreal, almost otherworldly.

Marcel froze, his eyes wide with confusion.

The roses weren't ordinary flowers, they felt alive, pulsing with an energy he couldn't comprehend.

A strange warmth surged through him, radiating from the spot where he had struck the moose.

It was as if the energy of the fallen creature was now flowing into him.

As Marcel took a cautious step back, he noticed that wherever his feet touched, more roses sprouted, tracing his every movement.

The ground around him bloomed with vibrant blue and red petals, creating a breathtaking, almost magical scenery.

The forest floor transformed into a sea of roses, their colors vivid and alive, spreading out in all directions.

He paused, his breath catching in his throat.

The pain in his body, the sharp bruises, the exhaustion was still there, but it didn't hurt as much as before.

He had become pain tolerant.

Marcel's gaze returned to the moose's body, now partially enveloped in the blanket of roses.

The vibrant petals seemed to pulse with life, their colors deepening as they spread across the carcass.

His fingers clenched into fists, his muscles tightening as he felt the energy from the flowers flowing into him.

"I understand it now," he whispered, a sharp grin spreading across his face.

Marcel had just awakened.

The moose may have been a powerful, resilient, and nearly unstoppable creature, but now, so was Marcel.