Show Me the way
Number 8
The break in the trees led to a crystal clear lake. The sun made the water glisten in ways I had never witnessed before this moment. It gave off an aura that just pulled me towards it, beckoning to me take a drink. My mouth fell open and I couldn’t help walking towards the lake. My slow, exhausted trudge broke into a trot as the lake grew closer, the reflections from the water shining up into my eyes. There was never a sight so perfect, not like this. I blinked trying to take it in and fell forwards towards the water, I hit the water hard and wasn’t wet at all, it felt like I had landed on a sheet of glass.
Poof.
There it was again, that same dream, never getting any closer than the last time. I rolled off of my face and groaned and pulled myself to my feet, my tree hammock made from vines wasn’t cutting it anymore. I was too old and too big, I didn’t have time to make a huge hammock, and time is too precious.
You know those commemoratives that you get when you’re really young? And you never want to let it go? My tree hammock. I carried that everywhere, like I would drop to the floor dead if it left my hands for just a moment. Four years is a long time, right? Or is it stupid to still have this hammock now that I’m 8? I’m 8, right? Oh never mind, my point is that I still have my hammock. Problem? Good. Moving on.
I tore my hammock off the trees, stuffed it into my pack and checked my traps. Nothing. Looks like I wouldn’t be eating again today…
Well, game for that matter. I hate berries, like you have no idea. I have to force the berries down, with this heck awful river water that’s probably burning holes in my stomach. I would give everything I have, granted that people would accept a single outfit, (which is so worn down that putting it down on the ground puts holes in it) and my pack. Actually, no, I would have to take my hammock, and maybe my dagger, but definitely my hammock.
…The snare was empty, not to mention the box trap. Even the pit trap! No matter where I seemed to be, the animals were never careless enough to get stuck in one of my traps. I walked away without taking my failures with me, I didn’t care for them.
Who would? I know you wouldn’t want to carry your failures along with you. It’s easy to leave them behind, does that make me weak? Or does it make me in denial? How many, err, 8 year olds do you know that live in the forest? None? Okay, so we know I’m not weak. Denial, you got me there, let’s not get into that now though.
Poof.
There it was again, that same dream, never getting any closer than the last time. I rolled off of my face and groaned and pulled myself to my feet, my tree hammock made from vines wasn’t cutting it anymore. I was too old and too big, I didn’t have time to make a huge hammock, and time is too precious.
You know those commemoratives that you get when you’re really young? And you never want to let it go? My tree hammock. I carried that everywhere, like I would drop to the floor dead if it left my hands for just a moment. Four years is a long time, right? Or is it stupid to still have this hammock now that I’m 8? I’m 8, right? Oh never mind, my point is that I still have my hammock. Problem? Good. Moving on.
I tore my hammock off the trees, stuffed it into my pack and checked my traps. Nothing. Looks like I wouldn’t be eating again today…
Well, game for that matter. I hate berries, like you have no idea. I have to force the berries down, with this heck awful river water that’s probably burning holes in my stomach. I would give everything I have, granted that people would accept a single outfit, (which is so worn down that putting it down on the ground puts holes in it) and my pack. Actually, no, I would have to take my hammock, and maybe my dagger, but definitely my hammock.
…The snare was empty, not to mention the box trap. Even the pit trap! No matter where I seemed to be, the animals were never careless enough to get stuck in one of my traps. I walked away without taking my failures with me, I didn’t care for them.
Who would? I know you wouldn’t want to carry your failures along with you. It’s easy to leave them behind, does that make me weak? Or does it make me in denial? How many, err, 8 year olds do you know that live in the forest? None? Okay, so we know I’m not weak. Denial, you got me there, let’s not get into that now though.