(no subject)

[shashmastafunk]

The mountainside looked beautiful that morning as I drove into the country. It wasn’t even five o’clock yet, and everything was quiet and peaceful. I loved the early morning hours and the serene tranquility they brought. There was something so soft and welcoming about these rolling hills. Plush, endless scoops of land topped with untouched snow peered out of the clouds and down at me. I was alone, as usual, and I loved it. My radio was off, the streets were empty, and the only sound I could hear was the quiet purring of my car engine. I tapped the accelerator gently, and I zoomed off towards the hills. Ah, there it was, my spot. It was where I always parked. The spot was nothing big; just a small clearing of underbrush that sat under a grove of pine trees. I parked and turned off my car. The ground was covered with fallen pine needles; it was as if nature had created its own carpet for my convenience. I stepped on the ground and looked around. Endless trees and uninterrupted silence greeted me from every direction. I grabbed my water bottle and notebook, and off I went. I’ve treaded this ground so often that I essentially created a pathway that twisted and turned through the wilderness. I loved walking through these woods, listening to the cheerful chirping of the early birds, the hoots of the retiring night owls, and the first animal footsteps of the day. It was literally impossible to find a single flaw in this network of life. I began to ascend higher and higher as I continued to walk through my trail. The air was getting thinner and noticeably colder. I was beginning to regret my ignorant decision in bringing only a thin sweatshirt and a vest. I wasn’t wearing any gloves either, and it’s true: your fingers are often the first place you begin to feel the cold. I looked up, and saw how steep the trail was getting: a few lose rocks and twigs were tumbling down towards me. Roots from ancient trees were cracking through the dry ground, and I used these as anchors to climb higher. My feet slipped a few times, but luckily my hands were gripped so tightly that I was able to hang on. After I finished the steep segment, I paused to observe my surroundings. Why did none of this look familiar? I could not recognize anything around me, so perhaps I had stepped onto a different trail. Rather than to be intimidated or scared by this fact, I felt amused and, to an extent, excited. I was invigorated by the fact that I might be taking on a new area of land today, that I may encounter new creatures and fresh scenery. The trail ahead was completely covered by a canopy of overlapping oak trees that blocked any sunlight from reaching the ground. Consequently, it was almost entirely dark. I entered the “tunnel,” and I immediately felt a fresh wave of cool, clean air wash over me. It was extremely pleasant, and I smiled as I continued on. For some, unexplainable and illogical reason, I decided right then and there to take off my boots and socks. My bare feet came in contact with wet, cold ground. It was almost as if I was walking on the beach, and I was quite certain that plush moss lay beneath me. I could feel a gradual incline as I pushed harder on my legs to continue moving; eventually, this incline grew so steep that I began to feel around for some source of footing support. I felt something solid and rough, and I hung onto it and pulled myself up, up, and out of the tunnel. Completely bowled over by the rush of sunlight, I stumbled and almost fell backward through the tunnel again. It was extremely bright and clearly past sunrise. I glanced at my watch; 6:10. Had I really been hiking for over an hour?! I looked around for a spot to sit, and found a rotting log lying on its side. Damp from the previous night’s rainfall, it stained my khaki shorts; I couldn’t care less. Strange as it may seem, I found something comforting about nature leaving its mark on me. I opened my water bottle and consumed water like a dehydrated plant in the dead of summer. Satisfied, I wiped my mouth on my sleeve and leaned back. The back of my head came in contact with something soft, startling me. Reaching around behind me, I found the soft, fuzzy material and pulled it in front of my eyes to examine it. Oh, I was disappointed: it was a child’s winter hat, abandoned long ago. I tossed it to the side, and got up again. I felt a rush of blood flow from my temples to my ankles, followed closely by a pleasant tingling sensation in my toes. I carefully stowed my water bottle away, and continued up the mountain. I began to notice an increasing lack of vegetation, and concluded that I was quite high up. Then I saw it: the first pile of snow! I could see layers of fresh, angelic snow glistening in the morning sun. I came closer, and saw footprints. Deer, I thought, observing the pattern of the prints. I got the urge to follow the footsteps, so that’s exactly what I decided to do. They curved high into the mountain, so that’s where I walked off. I saw a few lingering berry bushes, and decided that this would be my breakfast. I picked a few luscious red and black berries off some wiry branches and popped them into my mouth. Sweet, citrus flavored bursts of fruit exploded in my mouth, and immediately woke me up. These berries tasted much better than I had initially anticipated, so I picked some more and placed them carefully in my bag. I continued following the deer steps. They spun around in a circle, and then shot off back down the mountain. Interesting, I thought. I turned around and started trotting slowly down the mountainside, and then I heard it. It was the first time in my life, in all of my time hiking, that I had heard this sound. It was horrific, gut wrenching, ghastly, and dangerous. It was-
--------------------To be concluded.---------------------------------------------