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Rated: E · Short Story · Experience · #1268056
A short story holding the concepts of fear in a lost child.
“ Looks like we are the first here, doesn’t it? “

“ It would seem so Dear, perhaps we should start off with the camp then, don’t you say? “

“ Of course, I’ll set up our tents, why don’t you and Carolina get out our things for dinner and what not, Mark, you go collect a bunch of firewood so we can have a great big camp fire tonight. “

“ Alright dad, I’ll get more than enough for us! “

Mark was only twelve, his first camping trip; out with his family and neighbours, he was excited to be here. This great forest that stretched out as far as the eye could see. A lake that glistened in the golden sunlight focused in a mirror like still beyond their chosen camp.

Mark charged into the dense woodlands, grabbing a large piece of wood from the forest floor that he carried on to wave it around ahead of himself. Great clangs struck out over the forest as his wood crashed into the trees around. Shattering great vibrations along the pole before his final strike that sent it straight out his hand in a slight grasp of pain.
Lips curled in a complex curiosity as he gazed down to the wooden pole. The gentle role of his shoulders rippled past delicate arms before he continued his joyful stride, almost a skip into the shadowed forest.

Arcs of light slipped through the canopy over head, the lush green atop the bark and branches stretching out came short by the lower regions of the forest. Almost dead it seemed in the darkened brown, running over from fallen leaves and pines that had gone crisp in the shadows of the great trees overhead. The fog of old death and decomposed life that once shone out in an evergreen flourish had settled over the land ahead of him.
Bountiful trees broke the ever-present wind, silence struck out in an encore of echoes. Only the whisper of bird song and cricket brought the knowledge that deafened he was not. A crisp snap of fallen twigs underfoot sounded an alarm in marks head; almost leaping forth her turned sharply to look back at where his camp should be.

Breath held as Mark came to realise he could no longer see where he had come from. Brown eyes melded into a query of a glare outwards to find his lost camp. A panicked step brought him hurtling back in the way he thought he came. Turning, as he stumbled through the forest he found himself pressing on, his pace quickening though finding himself losing his footing too often to make any ground.

Stumbling at last to fall, crashing to the ground below. His hands crumbling under his weight as they struck the roots of a great tree that ripped out the ground. A gasp of air struck into his lungs as he finally found his voice once more. A great cry out bellowed through the still air. Tears whistled down the side of his cheek before falling into a silenced drip over the sodden earth.

An eternity seemed to pass; the cries threw waves of violence over the calmness of its forest. Birds fled to the air above to escape their sudden shock from such an awful sound. Nothing replied however, the yells that had escaped his lips had been encompassed within broken woodland. No reply, no cries outwards for his name, nothing but the stillness had settled over him once his voice had come short again.

Scraped hands pressed down to lift his small form, a gentle lick of blood spat forth from his thumb, the wound of a sharpened thorn. A quivering sound passed over his mouth in a shaken cry. Silent whimpers ran forth, from once he came to stand, shaking gently as his glistened, tear swept eyes scanned the area around him.

The cool air seeped over his bones; a wisp of his breath was clear as the heat from his body started to drop into the frozen woodlands. The longing wisps shortened as his breathing sped. Heart racing outwards as a horse gallops across an open field. Legs shook as his head flipped in arcs around his body. Desperate hope of finding some light source, some escape back to his family, back to his friends.

Another whimper escaped his lightening lips as he came to fall backwards, resting against the tree that ached over him. The looming shadows crawled their way across the carpeted floor as night started to settle in. Insects scuttled over the drenched grounds, the coo of birds soared out in the windless air as they settled down for the night.
Mark remained in that spot, unwilling to move, gazing outwards in tear stricken eyes, losing hope with each passing second, as the darkness seemed to grasp his slight form within its eternal nightmare.

A small scratching caught his ear, whimpers in the dark silenced by this curious sound. A quick turn of his head brought him face to face with the noisemaker however, a large spider that had crept down its spindles of thread to stretch those overbearing legs onto Marks nose. The great yell out from his small form sent animals all around shooting away from him. Tumbling over him as he leaped backwards the child almost cried out in shock.

“ I can’t do this, I don’t know what to do! “

His tiny voice almost turned into a scream in the dark, gritting his teeth he pushed forward once more. Vines stretched out to catch his feet, roots seemed to rip through the earth to drag him under, every tree screeched forth in a horror of anger against this intruder. The forest was alive with hatred towards him, the darkness engulfing all around him as he pressed on, trying to break free of his prison.

His pace quickened as those arms attacked the air around him, clutching at its invisible form in hope to find some security. A panicked run caught his legs before him, striding out again. A silent flutter before a great beat of large wings sounded just over his head, the silver flash of an owl haunted his soul as he dived forward to dodge the monster that attacked him.

“ No! “

The scream stretched out once more, the pain of his heart striking his chest caught his shortened breath away from that choking throat. Gasping for breath he rolled onto his back to find nothing but a perpetual darkness overhead. His hands clawed at the dirt below without any conscious thought.

A moment had passed as he came to regain what little composure he held. Pressing down into the trenches he had only just dug out, he found his feet in an unsteady stance. And then another screech, this time from behind, a sound that sent shivers through his body and brought the few hairs along the back of his neck to an upright command. A quick flick of his head brought no hope to find the thing in sight, with which he bolted outwards. Driving through the dense forest, his head lowered to stop the cutting branches that attacked his eyes. His arms pushed outwards to hold out against them. He drove steadily forward, snapping branches below his heavy-footed stamp.

The screams of that thing followed him, pushing harder he yelled back to it, bursts of incoherent cries to counter its outward screech. A fountain of tears had opened up under his eyes, the whelps of a cry repeated between his open yells. It was closer now, the screech that followed him was coming closer, never availing, simply hurtling towards his small form. A final scream, his head raised as his mouth held agape in a painful bellow. Bursting through a great thickening of branches, the sweat streamed from his features as it melded with sparkling tears. Snapping branches flung outwards as he came to break free, one final push otwards, only to fall to his knees. Mud splattered up his body, blood sipped from his hands and surely his newly torn knees. Bloodshot and tear stricken eyes gazed upwards only to find a light shinning back into them.

“ Mark! Where have you been? We’ve been looking everywhere for you. “

His fathers voiced seemed to fight back against the ever present screech of that demon hunter. That light, golden as the sun, drove the darkness that surrounded him away. Not a word passed the child’s lips; he simply dug his heels into the ground and found himself in open arms, weeping as he clutched the protection of his looming father. Silent whimpers found a damp shoulder as his tears spewed forth over it.

He’d clutch his father for moments to come, not a quivered grasp away, to never let go. For even a few hours can seem like an eternity, when all hope is lost in a darkened fury. 



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