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CryptKicker's Journal



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Out of Season

02:54 Jun 13 2007
Times Read: 658


It came through the darkened wood, the breeze that whispered far off and grew closer until its voice howled in my ears. The leaves swirled around my face throwing their bits of fiber and dirt into my eyes. The walking stick in my hand tapped against my remaining leg as the wind groaned louder and louder. A flash of movement caught my eye, something unaffected by the gale that threatened to uproot the very oaks themselves.



I spun about as quickly as my peg-leg allowed. Half-expecting to be toppled by the inhuman beast, I brought the stick up across my breast in defense. An enormous shadow lurched towards me and I bent further back in anticipation of the attack.



But the attack did not come. I straightened and scanned the bending trees before me. The shadow that had threatened me lurched back away from me, and then forward again. A large bough far above casting the shadow thrashed the sky above like some mad dancer. My mood and situation prevented a smile at my own skittishness. I lowered my arms and smoothed my jacket. I resolved to conduct myself as a man despite the grave circumstances under which I now searched the woods.



The wind abated as I turned and made a grand display of continuing my march. The snap of a small branch from the direction from which I had just but turned hit my senses harder than the actual attack. I watched as my arms shot ahead in a vain attempt to cushion my fall. The walking stick that had been passed through four generations of my family flew from my grasp; I only had the slightest awareness of the thickets that swallowed the antique stick. As the weight on my back raked claws of searing pain into the backs of my thighs, and points of white hot light pierced my neck, I could only wonder at how the wind turned all the trees to dancers, each swaying to the pulse of the heart that threatened to burst in my chest. Before my face met the dark earth below me, made damp with my own blood, I had ceased to feel any pain at all. How comfortable I felt. How comfortable to just lie there with the warmth of my own blood washing over me.


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