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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1236206-Minnesota-Dark-Woods
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by Fushia Author IconMail Icon
Rated: · Other · Other · #1236206
working story
I am still working on this so nevermind its not finished



…I walked, pacing myself in the darkness. It was quiet on my walk, I could hear my friend, Gage, besides my slowly tamping through the underbrush trying to not fall. The forest floor was littered with pine needles, pinecones, dead leaves and sticks, fallen trees and logs, and plant life. All this tried to trip Gage, maddening him. He asked me to stop and look at his legs; he said they felt wet and hot. I looked at his legs, my eyes piercing the darkness like a cat’s. I noticed the defensive rashes from plants and cuts from rocks and trees. He had not faired well through this trip with me. He was growing sticker as the night pressed on.



It was Gage and my turn to go look for firewood that night. We were supposed to bring logs, branches, and anything burnable we could find that night inside the woods. I had been selected to go on every trip because I have the ability to look through the night like day due to the abundance of rods in my eyes. I had been hauling trees and branches throughout the night, finding new locations each time. Gage was a gangly city kid, on this trip just to be with friends with no real appreciation of Nature. He was well built and had a lot of book intelligence, however was never much of a hands-on worker. My goals of this trip was to show kids what Nature was like and this happened to be his circumstance, to help me collect firewood in the dead of night. My stature is not of importance, however and I am woodsman in the heart and body, but I did have a few special talents given to me at birth.

We set out into the Minnesota’s Dark Wood’s, bold and fearless as we tried to impress the girls. As we walked in further, I decided to plan our route inside my mind. The further we went; the more and more afraid I could see Gage growing. He looked cold and afraid, like a starved mouse through the long winter. I worried about him and asked if he was ok or if he needed to go back. He replied, trying to sound brave, “No Matthew I’m fine, it’s just a little cold is all and I can’t see.” A mouse ran underfoot and Gage squealed in terror. “ You have no need to lie to me Gage. I would rather you not be here if your going to freak out on me in the middle of the woods. The last thing I need is a bear or something else on us, and me be responsible. So either cowboy the fuck up or get your ass outta here! The trail isn’t that hard yet even. You deiced what your gonna do Gage but in the end it was your decision and your going to pay for it if it’s wrong. This is the point of no return Gage, the trail ends here, so you decide what’s gonna happen now or I will and you ain’t gonna like my way!” He looked down like a kicked dog, lost in thought and terror. Apparently I had become a monster in the night to him and he had to idea what to do. Proudly, he lifted his head up and acknowledged he was coming. I turned around and made my way through the brush.

The cover was dense and thick, full of rocks, tree limbs, logs, and any kind of underbrush imaginable. I sniffed the air, there was clarity to it from an average human being, but to me I could smell the rot of death. It was off but clear and distinct, like tasting the wax in honey. I didn’t tell gage this, fearing he would run off into he night screaming his bloody head off. My site was not far off, but then I heard it. Faintly as a whisper was the stalking of a creature so faintly it could have been forgotten. I had Gage move downward toward the ground. I pulled out a buck knife from its sheath, scanning towards the noise. The plants moved slowly from its way, it’s slender figure ever ready to catch us. It was a canine, but not a wolf, for it was smaller the less hairy. I put my knife near my waist, holding to for a defensive stab. It bolted towards Gage, seeing him laying feebly on the ground. I tackled the dog, thrusting my knife into its side, twisting it. It turned upon my and the knife slid out of my hand carelessly. I reached for another, a smaller, shaper knife. I rushed to too gain an advantage, stabbing it underneath the jaw too hold its jaws. I wrestled it too the ground using the underbrush as an advantage. Rocks became clubs and dirt a blinding concoction.
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