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Rated: 13+ · Message Forum · Contest · #896794

Enter your story of 300 words or less.

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by David Author IconMail Icon
The air is frigid, 15 degrees colder than before the storm.  I smell the dampness of the forest.   I hear the trees complain as the winds whip through their branches.  In a burst of lucid thought, I remember my childhood when I loved days like this.  I’d run outdoors in the crisp air, daring the wind to push me over.  Moments of clarity like this were fading, replaced with bouts of confusion.  
 
It seemed a reasonable thing, scaling the 20 foot rock wall out of the river-bank to gain a better view.   One step up, a slight jump to grab the stout sapling and then a quick hoist would put me over the edge.  As the tree gave way it occurred to me I was only five feet from the ground.  It didn’t occur to me that the massive rock would become dislodged, land directly on my lower body, crush an ankle bone, and pin me face down in the scaly mud.  As the pain coarsed through my body, I thought about my utility belt and all its survivalist contents: water, first aid, a knife, all resting near my tent.  Then the rain came.
 
There is a point where you realize you may not make it.  For years I’ve dreamed of hiking the Appalachian’s.  I’ve read no less than ten books.  I learned to use a map and compass and to pack what was necessary. If a storm blew in, I knew the drill.  If, however, it blew in while I was pinned under two tons of granite, I was unprepared.  The cold from drenched clothing sucked the heat from my core.  A robin perched nearby sung cheerfully, willing me to get up, reminding me the storm had passed.  I wanted to.  First a little sleep.  Just for a moment.
 

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