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*sigh*
you know...the past week or so have really sucked...first, i almost lost a really good friend that i have grown close to over the year, then these stupid hiccups test we had to take, hist project, health project, test after test after test after test. i had to have a parent teacher conference in the vp's office cause im failing alge and chem...and now i know and have proof that i am an one stuuuuuupiddumb messed up kid. doc said so.
on friday, stephen and i had to stay up all night and finish re-doing our history day video. the whole night was spent trying to get though problem after problem, setback after setback. the past three weeks have BEEN nothing but setbacks. heck even when we DID finish the video, we couldnt get it to vhs OR even dvd. so we had to take the WHOLE GOD DAMN COMPUTER to the competition. we got there at 11:15 in the morning. lucky for us the judge extended our judging time to 11 but we were 15 minutes too late. so we put in three weeks in for nothing. again scrificeing our time, energy, and health for a stupid project, for which we wern't even evaluated for.
after that, i went down alone...
The Others
it had been a long night, and then an even longer morning. Yawning, he stood at the top of the infamous pipe, the pipe which led down to the little place that was known as, the "den." us night, haveing stayed up doing a project all night, he decided that, because he had given his word to the others, he would meet them down at the den. although his two partners had been unable to travel with him, the expidition was not so dangerous that he needed help during any part of the journey.
It had rained a little in the morning and the rocks, dirt, and pipe itself were rather slippery. Never the less, he stretched his tired form, took a swig of gatorade, and began the teaterous ascent. the backpack he carried was rather full with an extra shirt, his gatorade, and other essentials he would need when working with the others down at the den. the other bag he carried, held the work tools he would use upon his arrival.
He grabbed a rock as his old, worn out basketball shoes slipped on a wet, moss covered rock. Thankfully his grip held and his jeans protected his legs from scratches given by the rocks. Not the least bit shaken, he continued down, and down, and down, slipping, slidding, comeing very close to loseing his grip and tumbeing down the mountain like a small boulder. |
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He payed no attention to these close encounters with fatility, for his mind wandered elseware. Deep seated resentment, anger, and agression accompanied by sarrow, exaustion and failure ate away at his insides, leaving his motor control all on it's own, as it his eyes saw only what went on inside his head, rather then outisde, barely concious of slipping, regaining control, going forever downward as it seamed. Climbing ontop the slippery metal of the rust encrusted pipe, traversing it's lenth without noticing the twenty five foot drop that he would experience with one wrong step. yet, despite his relatively few experiences on the pipe, his feet carried him so surely along it, that the water, moss and rust combined could not falter his sure footed steps. casually jumping off, he strode across the damp wood of the natural bridge, climbed along the slippery rocks next to the rapidly flowing river. only upon entering the midst of the den, did he realize completly where he was and what he was doing.
Confused, he looked around, wondering where the others were. they said they would be here, so they would. then again, they had sacrificed the needs of others for their own need for thrill, excitement, and fun. That was of no consequence here of course, for the den was exactly that, the den. always fun and exciting. thrills of the wild boar, the now rushing stream, the natural tempals, and the wonderous huts they had proudly constructed with their bare hands. all of this rose around him, but the others were no where to be seen.
perhaps they had gone off farther into the woods to clear the other areas that they had talked about doing before, but no, they couldn't be here, for the fire was cold, and there were no bags resting upon the falled tree. perhapps they were here, and he just couldn't see them. putting his belongings down, he quickly walked over to the jailbird tree, removed his shoes and socks, and quickly climbed ass high as his exauted legs could carry him. he gazed all about himself, searching for signs of the others. listening for the shouts of laughter they usually shared after cracking a joke while whittleing away at yet another spear, or tool. Silence reached his ears, the silence of the forrest, where only the birds chirped and the trees rustled. sliding down, he finally realized, that he was all alone. yet still, fear did not overtake him, for the den was comfertable and reassuring, despite its many mosquitoes and annoying buggs that plagued the area; biting, buzzing, pinching, he could no longer stand them, so he packed up and left. now, with his drive of fun times to share with close friends, completely gone, his mind was slowly filled with many other thoughts, desires, emotions. As it began to rain once more, the slippery pipe now looked too risky to cross, so he slashed, and kicked, and pushed, and shoved, and forced his way though the thorns of the bushes, stems of the vines, and roughness of the california grass untill he stood on the old road directly underneath the pipe.
A foreboading feeling crept into his spine as he gazed at man made object which seamed to be the only link out of the gorge. Fatigue suddenly consumed him and he crumpled to the ground, breathing heavily and his mind spun out of control. after a few minutes, everything seamed to calm down and he pulled himself into a sitting position while he reached for his gatorade. while he drank, he pondered how he could reach the top of the ravine in his weakend state. realizing how foolish he had been to think he could hike down and back up on no sleep, he gazed disparingly at the old asphalt road which was being overgrown by california grass and other weeds to both sides of him. then it hit him, the road!
Two of the others had always biked down to the den using the den, he had always seen them to the left side of the pipe as he had preformed the treaturous climb down several times before. revitalized with a new sense of hope, he picked up his bag, shouldered his backback, and set off down the road, in what he hoped was indeed the direction they had come down from. once again, he pushed through weeds and tall grases but, so determined was he, that none of these obstacles could make him falter, or even break his stride. his legs went partially numb after awhle, due to the fact that they were drenched and from pure exaustion. he plowed on and on, passing the old and abandond bunkers constructed back in world war two when the allies faught the axis. now it was only him fighting the wild, one on one, no allies. the road seamed to go against him, it became increasingly difficult to keep the same pace while pushing through the tall grasses.
All around him he thought he heard strange noises. he had heard his mother say that dangerous people who very well could be murders, or just insane, usually hid in the unpopulated forrests and other places where no one went, except for the stupid teens who went where they were not allowed just for the thrill of it. he had shrugged it off then as something he would never encounter, but with himself all alone, hiking on pure adrenaline, it was quite possible that, if he encountered one of these mad men, he might easily be overcome no matter what caliber strength or fighting skill his attacker might have, for even a 9 year old child would have a good chace at him. This was the first frightening though he had had during the whole trip, death by a fall down the cliffside, or off the pipe did not concern him, but a deranged murderer who would kill him with his bare hands, gave him the chills.
Silently, he slowed as he gazed about himself, finding anywhere an attacker could hide and anything that would reveal anothers presence. He took our his hatchet and held it in a slightly shaky hand, but he knew that he could still his a tree, and quite pssibly a insane human being from six to twelve feet away. As he clenched the smooth wooden handle, he was reasured and felt that, if anyone did attack him, he would have a much better chance now. of course of the attacker had a gun, he didn't have much chance anyway but that didn't frighten him as much as grappling with another whos intent might be to kill him.
His whole body was burning and itching while he traveled down the road which never seamed to stop, plowing on through the never ending and intruding grasses that were the only thing that seamed to stand in his way and civilization. The pipe was now well out of sight, so he figured that he must have at least been hiking for a mile or more, the sun was begining to get low in the sky, but there was still an hour or so before sunset. His leggs burned to badly now that he had to sit down, shakeing out of pure exaustion, he drank the last of the gatorade he had and rested his body for a few minutes. his mind wandered and he wished he had never climbed down in the first place, oh how stupid he was. haveing enough sense to stand, stretch and not let his muscles tense up, he spied what he though to be a clearing up ahead. it must be the road that linked this one to one of the roads above the valley, the one the others had used to bike down to the den. eagerly he again picked up his bags and puches through an especially dense patch of tall grass, as he steped through it, everything turned upsidedown.
he blinked, and looked around, his hand firmly clenched rather pokey bunch of grass and weeds but something held him back from letting go. he looked down, and saw 30 feet below himself, a wide expanse of a dry riverbed. at first he couldn't comprehend it all, and then his heart felt like it had been seized and was slowly being squeezed. he couldnt breathe, everything spun around himself once more, and he began to loose conciousness. amazingly, it seamed as it his hand had been glued shut because, even though he had nearly lost his mind, his grip never faultered. silently he thanked his instincts and appologized to himself for not listening to them before, for it he had, he would not have been clinging to the same the grass that he despised , literly, for dear life. he eventually calmed himself but af he felt his had slowly start to slip, he knew he must act fast. he found some protruding rocks and used them for footing, then he braced himseld as he summoned the last remaining dreggs of strength but all his reserves were gone, his body spent, he could not go on. As his heart fell, he saw his family desperately searching for him, police looking everywhere, even the others would most likely search down in the gorge, but there was no way, no possible way, that anyone would even think, or know to look for him here. in fact, it was quite posible no one, including himself, knew where "here" was. despair hit him harder then any mallet ever could.
His heart sank realizing that he would never see the ones he loved again, never feel the freedom he had while he jamed away his worries on his set, never learn how to surf, never marry, nevver hold his own child protectively in the crook of his arms as he gave it soothing words of comfort and love. eyes brimming with tears he could not picture himself dying this way, never found, forgotten as easily as if he had never lived at all. no matter how much he wanted to talk to his friends just one more time, he could not find the strength inside himself to cimb up and pull himself over the ledge, to where he might still have hope of seeing those he cared for once again. dispair, saddness, and fear, he knew, would never get him back to those he knew who actually did care about him, the ones who he knew for sure loved him. the ones who had consistantly proved it everytime he saw them.
his family...after all, he knew that they wouldn't survive without him to blame everything on. a smile broke across his face then and his heart was elated somewhat. new vigor filled his veins and he swung his other hand and griped a rock on the ledge. he pulled and pulled, despteratly clawing at the dirt with the now smooth underside of his dirty shoes. inch by inch he went up, he could do this!
It was then that the rock he had gripped on the ledge gave way and broke out of its dirt cradle and bounced down to the dry river bed. swinging widly once again, with only his right hand, still clenched to the california grass, he gave up all hope. then, without warning, he realized the only way to get out of this, was on emotion alone. his strength of body was gone, along with strength of mind. totally spent, the only reserve he held, held deep within the very core of his being, was......anger.
he clenched his teeth and he dug into his core, pulling all the bad memories to the surface, every single thing that had infuriated himself over the entire course of his life, the memories and the emotions he had buried deep insive and locked up so tightly, that it never was able to break free. now it controled him, flowed through the very being of his veins, through his core, and into his wasted body. The hatred he felt to those who had constantly hurt him, broke him, toyed with him as it he was nothing better to them then a fun little treebranch, which they could break in two, let it heal, and break it once more. The lonelyness he felt, no one to help him, no one to understand how he felt sometimes, no one there, now burned through him, reminding himself that he could count on no one but himself in this wretched world. the fear that was now inside taunted him with infuriating and humiliating deeds long past, the aggression to lash out and hurt someone, so deeply buried made his entire body shake with pure energy. Every single memory, thought, feeling, were opened up like old scabs. The scars left to him by those who hurt him the most were ripped opened anew and fresh sarrow seamed to turn into bitter resentment, which in turn, formed into anger, and hatred. fire danced in his eyes ass all his locked up emotions seamed to course inside every vein of his body as he was consumed by the emotions that had been forgotten for so long. Unrecognizable now, as the usually sweet and caring person so many knew him as, he looked more like a tormented spirit, turned into an insane demon who knew only hatred and anger.
It was then, that he screamed. at once mournful and infuriated at the same time, it peirced natures silence and seamed to send a shiver through the forrest around him. with one powerful pull, he hoisted himself over the ledge as if it were nothing more then a bank of fog, rather then earth. His hatchet was in his hand once again and he ran as, not if persued by deamons, but as one of them. he leaped over rocks and fallen logs, smote the never ending stalks of grasses out from his wake. driven by hatred for all things that existed, daring any living thing to cross his path, so he may extend his wrath upon it. he reached the pipe in no time and threw himself at the wall of rocks and dirt that led up to the real world. as if climbing the very walls of hell, he sped upwards and over pank after bank of rock. his mind was clouded as he rushed up the slippery banks of rock, constantly slipping and barely avoiding death at the hands of nature herslef. he had no control as his mind was consumed in the darkness of hatred, for it was all he could do not to slip into the pull of insanity which tried to grip his very soul. as he reached the summit of the last bank, he gave a joyus cry as he saw the rows of houses, momentarily forgetting his insane anger. before the anger could comsume him once more however, he blacked out.
awakeing to an consistant barking, he opened his eyes, light poured into them and he squinted untill his eyes adjusted to the intenst brightess. he must have been out less then half an hour. Sitting up he about, wondering where he was and why did he ache all over. Gazing behind himself, he looked down into the valley and convulsed as all the memories and emotions tried to overcome him once more as his memory came flooding back. pushing away the feelings, he got up and brushed himself off. looking back one last time, he hoped the fence and started the long walk back home.
As he walked he pondered about many things, like all the memories he had remembered. he wondered how he was able to surpress all those emotions after he blacked out. Maybe out of sheer force of will, because he knew the emotions had not left, he could feel them, once again, securely locked up deep inside, although they seamed to throb, as if wanting to be free once more. he would never allow it. he had almost died, all because he was stupid enough to go down into the valley alone, with no way to be sure if the others were actually down there or not. as he walked, that one though played over and over inside his aching head.
where were the others? |
