Fast forward to now, September 1993. Damon and I were seventeen, in our second last year of high school and we were currently being stalked by two jocks on the school's football team, Jacob Harris and Alex Webb. They were quite well known and somehow everyone seemed to like them despite the fact that they were complete assholes.
It was quiet, except for the occasional bird chirp or rustle of the discoloured autumn leaves swaying in the bitter wind. Damon broke the silence between us, pulling two small white tube-shaped objects out of his rear jean pocket then reaching his hand into his front pocket to retrieve an orange lighter. I watched him as he popped one of the cigarettes between his lips and flicked the lighter on. He held the glowing flame against the butt and cupped his free hand overtop to shield it from the breeze. He then took a drag and blew the grey cloud of smoke directly into my face, letting out a brief chuckle as he did so.
"Damon, where'd you get those?" I questioned, clearly unamused.
"Stole them from my dad," he stated with pride.
I glanced at the paper tube hanging from his mouth, observing as he took a second drag this time blowing the smoke from the corner of his mouth aiming it in the opposite direction. Without second thought I grabbed the extra fag that had been laying in his lap. Damon studied me, surprised that I had even considered picking it up. He handed me the orange lighter which I gladly took and held against the butt. Once I had completed this action I inhaled a little too deeply which caused a major coughing fit. Damon laughed maniacally at the sight of this. When the coughing had subsided I glared back at him expressionless, and handed the burning cigarette back to him. He took mine along with the one that had been hanging from his mouth and snuffed them, using the oak tree trunk as an ashtray. We watched them burn out until they were nothing more than two paper sticks.
Something then caught my attention, the familiar sound of crunching leaves beneath sneakers.
"Shit Gra we need to get the hell out of here now," Damon half whispered.
We immediately rose to our feet and swiftly steered through the trees.
"Guys don't run, we just wanna hang out!" Alex's voice bounced off every standing tree, sounding as if it were replaying itself over and over. We sprinted faster.
"C'mon four-eyes slow down!" Jacob yelled.
I ignored the derogatory remark and kept running alongside Damon until we both ran out of steam and were forced to take a breather.
"You think we lost 'em?" I exhaled.
"Yeah, I don't hear them anymore," Damon exclaimed, glancing back.
I peered at my wrist watch reading 5:43pm on the almost microscopic silver hands.
"It's getting pretty late. Do you think we should head back?"
"Alright, it'll probably start to get dark soon anyway," Damon agreed.
YOU ARE READING
A Walk in the Woods
رعبI honestly don't know what this is I just decided to write a horror story. Don't make fun of my obvious name choices :'D
