Recently my mind has recalled a rather hilarious memory (given it is true, that is up to you the reader to decided) which is the beginning of who I am as a person. I am not evil, I am just when I need to be. But Justices has an ugly cousin, revenge, that sometimes is blurred. This may be fictitious, it may not be.
When I was a child of around the age of 6 (I believe), I learned what it was like to feel the fear, and excitement of the lines of life and death. It was a cool September day, of around 55 degrees. My neighbor, a friend, had been walking in the woods when on his stroll he came across men with a rifle (or shotgun, but most likely the , that attempted to scare him off by pointing the rifle in his direction. It work, of course, he was merely a child like me, and we did not understand the difference between a man looking for intimidation and a man looking to kill. Now bear in mind, these woods were not of game territory, but rather close to residential areas, and were public and private properties with no hunting allowed. The boy came down and alerted his mother, who then phoned up the parents/guardians of the fellow neighborhood children.
I do not remember the assembly that took place, nor how long. I do remember standing in my front yard, with my pride in hand; a Swiss Army Pocket Knife. I had just "leveled up" to the age where my parents allowed me to have one, an honor that I held dear. I was with four others, one being a year older than me, another 3-4 years older, then two adults. The 3-4 year old, Tom, was armed with nothing, not that it wasn't much better than my pocket knife. The child who was one year older than myself, Dillian, had a pocket knife as well. The two adults, Steve and Marry were armed with the most, Steve carried a large knife, and Marry had pepper spray.
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| Petrichor, -DW |
We all followed Tom to the spot where he was threatened, and thus began the adventure. It was around 3pm when we entered the woods. Few leaves were on the ground, making our silence ever more easy. It had rained in days previous, and now the saturated ground left some clues as to the origin of the men. We followed a promising trail, with footprints that led to and from a deeper place in the woods. The wind pushed the leaves above as we continue on. The air was damp, and the area was strong with petrichor. A rather satisfying smell, I found it to be quite refreshing. We came upon a stream that cut deep into the sides of the hill. Climbing down the banks, we noticed slide marks, some of deer, and some of men. The smell that filled the air past the creek was of terrible disgust. The sound that filled the air changed as well, going from a gentle shaking of leaves, to thunderous claps, like that of a flag blowing in a storm. Fifty yards ahead, the source of the smell and sound was quite obvious. A white tarp, of large size hung over the branches of two trees, creating a tent like structure. That was the sound, the blowing of the sides. As we approached, the smell became strong, and the source became quite apparent. Inside the structure a rib cage (we presume it was of a deer) hung from one of the branches, it was stripped clean of all meat, but the flies enjoyed it anyway. Below it rested a black bag, that upon further inspection revealed upwards of 80 beer cans. Shell casing were also laying upon the ground, giving us the final clues in the puzzle. This was the home of the men with the guns, but they were not home, and by the looks of it they were smart enough to have satellite camps.
By examining the grass it was easy to deduce the way in which the men had headed, further into the abyss. But our journey was not over, we had to know where to find them in case their threat became an action. So ahead we went, through the grass, through the woods and into the thick darkness. The sky above became closed off as trees towered above, with thick brush rising above our heads. Due to the lack of light, they lack as man leaves as the typical brush, but they were strong, unlike the dry and dead.
We followed the trail, getting deeper and deeper, not knowing what we would find, or what would find us. The bushes came to a center, and opened in two ways, the way we traveled first leads us to a clearing, where berries covered the brush. A second tent like structure had been created out of a blue tarp, two chairs sat beneath, as did more beer. It was no surprise as to where it had originated. After a sweep of the area, it was simple to conclude that they rarely, if at all traveled past the rest of the clearing, so we went back into the central HUB of the brush and went the second way.
The second way, was far more difficult than imagined. At some points we had to get down on all fours to crawl through. As we passed under the tight sections, we noticed black fur that had scrapped off as an animal had passed underneath. That is when it became apparent: this was the lair of the bear. It had inhabited this zone for the past few years, and had occasionally come down and went to town on the garbage of the street. It had been harmless to this point, but that was on our turf, now we were in it's home field.
Upon that realization, my adrenaline pumped like it never had before. I was now battling two evils, the men with guns that could have been prowling the shadows, or the bear, with it's strength and mighty claws. But as we had done before, we continued on. Upon our quest, we did not find them, but likewise, they did not find us, we left them little surprises to know that we knew where they were. By the time we exited it was growing dark. We had discovered a total of 3 makeshift tents, and found a the main location of feeding that the bear had. A month later we traveled back their to see what all had happened. The men had packed up and left sometimes far before our second coming.
Few times in my life have come around when I felt the fear, and excitement to the level of that day. Few days compare to the level of intensity of all that had happened. Well a few have risen to the level; the day I was chased by a rabid raccoon, and Prom. But those are a different story.
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