Fear the Woods
It was supposed to be a brilliant weekend away before the snows came, and everyone retreated indoors for the long cold Winter.
It was a fantastic idea but everything that could go wrong, was.
After more tricks than treats, we finally made it to the mountains we unpacked, set up the tent’s, ate a cold supper, and crawled into our sleeping bags for some much needed rest.
The night was bitterly cold. I’d forgotten to pack wood for the fire. I wanted to pack everyone back up into the car, and drive home in defeat.
The family begged me to stay, saying that it was fun, and that we’d gather wood in the morning.
I relented, threw on more clothes, and wished sunrise would hurry and warm things up.
I gave up trying to sleep just as the sun was working its way over the mountain. I cursed at it and stomped off into the trees to find some wood.
There were trees everywhere, but not a stick or branch to be seen anywhere.
By now, I was fuming. I rushed deeper into the woods. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.
Suddenly, things got very dark. I had no idea where I was, or how I could get back.
I spun in circles, trying not to panic. I hadn’t gotten that far from camp, had I?
I tries to retrace my steps, but nothing looked familiar. Endless acres of leaves, no sticks, and trees as far as the eye could see.
Hours passed, and all I saw were endless woods, with no help to be had.
I was exhausted and beaten. I dropped to the ground.
If I was doomed to wander, they weren’t getting that satisfaction.
Not now.
Not ever.
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