Myth

Bitten

Noah was running away.

Okay, maybe not forever, definitely not forever. 

But ever since his mom died, his dad was just . . . empty. An empty shell. Often times he forgot to prepare his famous dinner, and when he did remember, he just ordered take out.

Him and Noah didn't watch any baseball games anymore, and movie nights turned into Noah-Stares-At-His-Phone-Alone nights.

In the morning he would walk to school, but Noah's dad used to drive him every morning and say hi to his friends in his sports car.

Noah missed those days.

Especially when he had friends. He was fifteen, but he had no friends. He used to. But now at lunch he sat alone in the library. Now he was picked last in sports. Now he was assigned partners instead of choosing.

But he didn't need friends. He had the woods, after all.

It was prohibited to go wandering in the woods after dark, something about night creatures and town legends, rah rah.

Whatever.

It didn't stop Noah. He was just going to spend one night in the forest. 

He was prepared too. In his backpack was a sleeping back turned hammock, so the ants or any floor creatures didn't get him, and it could be zipped so mosquitos didn't bother him when he slept. He had a flashlight, solar charged, and snacks for in the morning to give him energy for the trek back.

The sun was setting already, the last rays of light disappearing over the tree tops. The sky was slowly turning purple, and stars were peeking out.

Noah yawned, ready to set up camp. He took out his hammock, unrolled it, and looked around for a good pair of trees.

Most were too thin, but there were two that were sturdy looking and near each other. He proceeded to tie the strings around each trunks. 

He set his backpack on the ground next to the trees.

Testing his weight, seeing if the hammock would fall, he climbed in. It was nice fit, and he was going to zip the zipper up when he heard a twig snap (of course it was a twig). He held still, but he felt so exposed.

"Who's there?" He asked. Maybe it was a squirrel.

Everything was quiet. His heart sped up. 

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

He waited for a while, but there was no sound. Besides for the crickets screaming and a few last birds singing. After a few minutes, his heart finally clamed down. 

Okay, breathe, Noah thought. Just breathe.

Slowly, he drifted into a dream.

Something was chasing him. He was tired, but he kept going. He could feel the breath of the thing on his heels.

Then he tripped.

The thing caught up and . . .

Noah put his arm out just as it lunged for his face, and the thing bit him.

He screamed in pain.

~~~

He woke up with a large fat squirrel on his face.

"CHITTER CHITTER." The squirrel waved its tail rapidly, and in its hands were . . .

NOAH'S FOOD.

A Cheeto sat in its tiny hands, half bitten. 

The squirrel stole his food! The nerve! Also, it was illegal to feed wildlife in Misbourne.

But still.

"You! Stop!" Noah waved his hands around, wondering how the squirrel managed to unzip his hammock and steal his Cheetos. He looked and realized it was torn. IT- how could it! 

"Away!" Noah pushed the squirrel off.

The squirrel chastised him once and then promptly scurried away.

"Ugh." Noah shook his head, looking at his backpack. It was also torn to pieces. "Arrrggg. That was my breakfast."

He sighed, and gathered his stuff. As he reached for his flashlight, and saw a curious thing on his arm, right where the thing in his dream had bit him. It was right above the crook of his elbow, so he had to twist his arm to look at it. He peered closely at it, squinting.

There were two crescent marks, like a cat bite, but bigger. Underneath he could see a bruise forming, dark blue with shades of green. It seemed to have pierced the skin a little, there was some dried blood.

"What?" Noah blinked, thinking maybe he imagined it. He hadn't it stayed there on his arm.

What had done this?