Shelter

Shelter

The woods are thick and covered with moss and weeds.  It’s hard to find your footing most of the time, but you’ve camped before and you’re no stranger to the wilderness.  You decide to make your camp somewhere close to a water source, this, naturally, requires you to locate a lake or river nearby.  You walk for what feels like ages, stumbling over tree roots and leaves and all sorts of other forest rubble, scraping your knees and elbows more than once.  Given the circumstance, you decide that it’s best to plow on, searching.  After hours of wandering, constantly thinking you’ve made a circle, you happen upon a lake.  It’s small, you can clearly see the other side, but it’s deep.  You wonder if there are fish inside.  You take a moment to rest and drink some of the cool, clear water.  It tastes fine.

After a few minutes, you think you hear something approach from behind.  Startled, you turn, but there’s nothing there.  You take one final sip and ditch the lake for fear of meeting the strange island’s inhabitants.  You’ve seen enough sci-fi movies to know that the doctor would never have let you leave if he hadn’t thought pain was waiting for you out here.  You walk for at least five minutes in the opposite direction of the water source.  Thirsty predators were certain to visit the lake.  A tree with low, thick branches catches your attention.  You climb up, remembering your childhood days of swinging from tree to tree.  A light feeling accompanies the journey upwards, until you’re so high up that you can see over many of the other trees.  You decide to make your home beneath the huge tree, so that if trouble comes you can just climb up, and it will provide an excellent vantage point, if needed.

You climb down, slowly, careful with each foot and hand so you don’t die before your adventure has even begun.  But you are careless.  Your surgical knife lies at the bottom of the tree, where you’d left it, and you don’t look at the ground before you jump.  Once you reach the forest floor, you notice a large, vicious-looking animal that resembles a cat.  You knife is a few feet away, but a little closer to the animal than you feel comfortable with.  To your left, an open space to run.  You don’t have much time to choose… Fight?  Or Flight?

If you choose to fight, move to the next section in Blue.

If you choose to run away, move to the next section in Green.

Author's Note

Blue or green, fight or flight? Did the story capture you thus far? Please let me know... I've never been an 'action' writer, so to speak, and I'd like to improve. Thanks for reading!!