One More Round the Bend (Blarobbarg's half-assed journal where he recommends stuff)

Blarobbarg · 01-25-2019, 09:29 AM

Run (Part 5)

David’s movements were quick for a man whose left arm was useless and who had lost a considerable amount of blood. He wasn’t quite running, but he was moving expertly forward in a deep crouch, on towards his jeep at the edge of the hills. He assumed he would be by himself, this deep in Daniel Boone National Forest. Sure, his family lived a little east of here, closer to Williamsburg—but aside from a few neighbors, there ain’t too many in these parts—at least, that’s what he had thought before heading into the hills. Obviously incorrect, his shoulder reminded him, as it snagged on a low branch and forced him to his knees.

He recalled, with grim sense of irony, a similar experience with roles reversed.

The .50 caliber sniper rifle in his hands.

The shot that blew the goddamn arm off an unsuspecting towel head who was working diligently in the distance, planting a land mine on the edge of a ravaged town.

The young man—couldn’t have been older than 16 or 17—dropping to the ground, flailing in agony, trying to escape whatever dark god was smiting him from the sky.

The flower of viscera that bloomed after he tripped over his own trap.

The laughter and jeers he shared with his friends.

Who was laughing at David now, somewhere out there in the woods?

At this miserable thought, he stopped for a moment to consider his now-black surroundings. It was freezing, and he could see his breath in front of his face by what little light the moon provided. He gripped his grandpa’s knife in one hand. The small blade offered little comfort.

Suddenly, there was a crack somewhere behind him and to his right. It was the sound of a foot breaking a twig on the ground, and he dropped without hesitation.

Straining his eyes, he peered into the pitch, all looming shadows swaying against solid gloom. He saw nothing. He held his breath, listening, but heard as much as he saw. After a few tense moments, he released a breath and started to pick himself up.

A thwip sounded and he felt what could only be an arrow whir past his ear and into the thicket, and he took off into the brush.

01-25-2019, 09:29 AM	#22 (permalink)
Blarobbarg Do good. Join Date: Feb 2011 Location: Minneapolis, Minnesota Posts: 2,065	*Run (Part 5)* David’s movements were quick for a man whose left arm was useless and who had lost a considerable amount of blood. He wasn’t quite running, but he was moving expertly forward in a deep crouch, on towards his jeep at the edge of the hills. He assumed he would be by himself, this deep in Daniel Boone National Forest. Sure, his family lived a little east of here, closer to Williamsburg—but aside from a few neighbors, there ain’t too many in these parts—at least, that’s what he had thought before heading into the hills. Obviously incorrect, his shoulder reminded him, as it snagged on a low branch and forced him to his knees. He recalled, with grim sense of irony, a similar experience with roles reversed. The .50 caliber sniper rifle in his hands. The shot that blew the goddamn arm off an unsuspecting towel head who was working diligently in the distance, planting a land mine on the edge of a ravaged town. The young man—couldn’t have been older than 16 or 17—dropping to the ground, flailing in agony, trying to escape whatever dark god was smiting him from the sky. The flower of viscera that bloomed after he tripped over his own trap. The laughter and jeers he shared with his friends. Who was laughing at David now, somewhere out there in the woods? At this miserable thought, he stopped for a moment to consider his now-black surroundings. It was freezing, and he could see his breath in front of his face by what little light the moon provided. He gripped his grandpa’s knife in one hand. The small blade offered little comfort. Suddenly, there was a crack somewhere behind him and to his right. It was the sound of a foot breaking a twig on the ground, and he dropped without hesitation. Straining his eyes, he peered into the pitch, all looming shadows swaying against solid gloom. He saw nothing. He held his breath, listening, but heard as much as he saw. After a few tense moments, he released a breath and started to pick himself up. A thwip sounded and he felt what could only be an arrow whir past his ear and into the thicket, and he took off into the brush. __________________ https://rateyourmusic.com/~Blarobbarg ｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆　^my RYM^　｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆ (◠‿◠✿)