matty
i must not waste time. i must not grow old with regrets. i must not wish i had done things i had not. i must explore places i have always wanted to i must use every moment of every day to it's full potential. i must not focus only on time!
the tarp barely covered me, and i had to tuck it under my feet and sit on the back, to stop the wind whistling underneath and taking my warmth. i was huddled between two large rocks, ferns and leaves strewn across the top of me, and only my mud and dust coated face peering out from beneath. i had a perfect view of the clearing below, a clear shot when they came into view.
the tar barely covered me, and i had to tuck it under my feet and sit on the back, to stop the wind whistling underneath and taking my warmth. i was huddled between two large rocks, ferns and leaves strewn across the top of me, and only my mud and dust coated face peering out from beneath. i had a perfect view of the clearing below, a clear shot when they came into view.
The sun hadn't come up when i started out.
there was a thick blanket of clouds, that seemed to smother the sky from the blackness of night on one horizon to a thin gap of clear sky appearing above the distant peaks on the other. In the pre-dawn light the clouds were carbon in colour. rain was forecast. it was not ideal weather to be heading out in, but i knew i had no other option, i could not wait in this cosy high country hut for them to eventually find me.
I do not want to live my life by half, or worse feel that i have even if i haven't.
"non-patrolled Zone" the sign read.
he ducked under the low wires, feeling like a dog escaping his yard, and reached back to drag his full pack underneath as well. although he considered himself to have lived a pretty happy, free, life back at home, where he was standing now, in a meter of fresh snow, not a sound except the dulled swish of falling flakes and the occasional thump of a tree collapsing under the weight of the drifts, his breath hanging in the air in front of him like a small cloud, here, he felt like laughing at the freedom of his pre-fence hopping life.
The withered old man tapped a number of unidentifiable substances from jars into his hand then threw them into the small round pot swaying above the fire; a mix of course white powders, a fine black dust, and a couple of round things which looked like dried seedpods which he proceeded to crunch between his palms before dropping the remnants in.
Finally, and quite unexpectedly, he took a fresh green lime from a pocket deep in his rags, cut it in half, then quartered it, juicing three of the quarters into the pot, and, saving the last for himself, biting into it with black and gappy teeth he turned and gave us a cheeky grin, the green lime skin between his lips giving him a comical "lime smile".
This was some witch doctor....
Already she had suffered multiple assaults from the weather. but she was the hardiest girl on the course well experienced in these type of survival conditions, better then anyone she knew, and trusted in her tiny buffeting tent, which she had managed to piece together in the first of the vicious attacks of the wild: the gale like winds blowing up and over the edge of the sea cliff, throwing salty spray over the precipice not 50 meters from where she now lay.
It is very difficult to use the word 'puncture' in a positive way:
"The tyre was punctured, the skin was punctured etc. every time you use it, it gives off a negative vibe. even forced into a positive context it seems, wrong, ugly, and sometimes out of place:
"she used the screwdriver to puncture the plastic, allowing her to breath"
"the boy ripped at the wrapping paper, using one finger to puncture it and see his present inside"
"the skin of the sweet sweet fruit was punctured, for the best tasting juice he had ever tasted"
It is like after using this verb, there are some other nasty verbs, accompanied by some negative adjectives, following, just waiting to get written by me, and i have to try my hardest to hold them back.
The last of the dirt was scraped from the bottom of the ten foot hole.
sheer dirt walls, void of foot or hand holds descended straight down onto the solid earth floor. All that remained to do now was cover the opening with thin branches and leaf litter, nothing that wood stop the fall of a blundering beast into the darkness.
"This will trap us an animal!" proclaimed the leader, who's name i hadn't yet caught.
I knew he was hoping that when we returned, the trap would contain an animal, perhaps cowering at the bottom with a broken leg.
I also knew it was not a forest animal he was hoping would be in there, but one of the patrols.
The animals that hunted us.
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writing since 2012 · 19 entries · 18 days shown up
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lostnowfacesnowviewroofbarelyblacklargeforestbehinddeepfencehimselfsunhand