Fear

The Beginning

There was a certain peace about the forest at night. The tranquility lingered there beneath the moonlight, bathing the trees in a luminescent, dream-like trance.  The pine straw which littered the forest floor rustled softly as I walked, silent and morose. With a navy canvas bag slung over one shoulder full of all necessary supplies for a midnight stroll, I continued on my way through the underbrush.

The cool air sent shivers dancing down my spine as I walked, tears pricking at the backs of my eyes. I heard the shallow stream before I laid eyes on it, the water playing over the rocks on the bed of the creek. Heavy thoughts laying on my mind, I made my way across the precarious little path made from rocks and debris.

When my foot touched the bank on the other side, I stepped onto the far shore and coughed into my clenched fist, sniffling slightly. As tears threatened to roll down my face, I ran blindly through the night, coughs wracking my frame. Feet thudding on the forest floor, I eventually stopped running from lack of air and looked around, panting quietly.

Before me was a decrepit bridge, wooden, missing planks and having no railing. It stretched about fifteen feet across the stream at its deepest, nearly eight feet above the water. Carefully, I walked out over it, the planks creaking and sinking dangerously beneath my weight. Ignoring the warning signs, I sat with my legs dangling off of the side and opened my bag, setting it on my knees.

I dug through it until I came up with a small, tin cigar case. I flipped it open and touched its contents lightly, the moonlight gleaming on the aluminum blade beneath my fingers. Lovingly extracting the blade from its case, I pulled my left sleeve up and set my bag next to me, the cigar case carelessly tossed into its depths.

Slowly, I pressed the blade to my skin and dragged it back towards me, watching the blood run, red. I did it again, further up my arm. And again. That hot, crimson rush was so relieving that I just couldn’t stop there. So I asked the blade to bite a little harder, chew a little deeper. And it did. When the crimson tears were flowing freely down my arm and my emotions were settled, I returned the blade to its tin casket and lay back, left arm lying away from my body as the blood dripped onto the planks beneath it.

I looked up through the trees, gazing at the partially full moon. My eyes fell half-lidded as a sort of dream-like state came upon my mind. I was blanketed in cool, pain-drenched relief, the moon’s light cast upon me as I lay still. Finally, I closed my eyes and slept.

-ooOoo-