The Wild Within

Cliff

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TWO

"You're a monster!"

"You don't belong here!"

"What is wrong with you?"

"I hope you you burn in Hell!"

I back away from their shouts, eyes filled
with terror of what is to come. I can't stay here. I was such a fool to think they would ever understand! Such a fool to think I could find a home here! No. This is the last time! I will never surround myself with people again.

"Uhm, Leila, where are we going?"

Darius's voice pulls me out of my thoughts — the memories of the last time I had interacted with new people and the disastrous way it had ended. I shake my head to clear it and glance at him warily. He is a new person. He is dangerous. I must get away.

"Not much farther," I say simply.

His breathing is harsh with the effort of staying upright, his skin pale and clammy. A cool breeze ruffles our hair, carrying with it the smell of soil and leaves. I love it out here. The air is crisp and free of human pollution, the grass wild and untamed and full of life. I spy a dung beetle scuttling across our path, rolling a giant ball of dung in front of it, like a soccer player about to score a goal. The gravel road that once paved this area has long since been overrun, so that all that remains are small piles of stones. Before us is a chipped and weathered sign, the words so faded that the only one visible is "Welcome". Beyond that lies the ruins of a building, the skeletal cement structure overtaken by twisting vines and trees.

"What is this place?" Darius gasps. "I thought we were in the middle of the wilderness!"

"We are. This used to be a lodge in a private game reserve." I swallow down the lump that forms as I think about the numerous holidays that my family and I spent here. "It's been almost completely destroyed," I tell him. "But some is still intact."

I lead him through the ruins: It's eerie, like being in a ghost town. Everywhere we look lie vestiges of the past — a swimming pool is filled with muddy water as a kingfisher swoops down in search of a fish, its blue and yellow plumage a colorful blur; a towering termite mound covers what was once a tiled floor, a giant jackal berry tree next to it which stretches through the thatched roof; insects scuttle over the crumbling walls and the ground is littered with chipped pieces of pottery, decor and bones.

We pass many demolished houses like this — once lavish accommodation for wealthy tourists seeking a safari getaway and now nothing more than decaying remnants of a past better forgotten. Nature has wreaked her vengeance in full force. Where humans had once claimed this soil as theirs — flattening grass and toppling trees to make room for their resort — she's taken back what is rightfully hers. She's worn down their walls with fierce, battering sheets of rain, broken through their fragile glass windows with tree branches like wooden swords, emerged through the tiles with fresh, blossoming shoots. In every corner lies a pocket of life — burrowing worms, buzzing bees, fluttering birds in a kaleidoscope of colors and feathers, and even a small slithering snake which makes Darius yelp.

"Relax," I say. "That one isn't poisonous."

We watch as it glides along the earthen floor and through the eye hole of a human skull — all that remains of the inhabitants who once stayed here. I lead him further and, at last, we are here. Home.