I Dream A Dive : Part 2

Excellence Award in the 'Step Write Up 2011' competition

The silvery-green disc of the moon hung clear in the sky, above the forest. I lay silent, watching the bats fly overhead as the night crept on. It was a humid night tonight, the warmest night we’d had in a long time. I could hear the crackle of the fire, burning off, to the edge of the cave. This was my home. My new home, that is. After leaving the old shack, where the old woman had shot at me, I came here. Well, I didn’t really come here...I stumbled across this place accidently. My Uncle Andrew would have been searching for days now, and my mother would’ve been devastated. If only I had of been more careful, back a Rock Island. My legs are still scarred, from climbing in that broken window, of the shack. After the gun shot went off, the pack of wolves took off, leaving me able to run from the loopy woman, with the shotgun. I think she was a hunter. I was about to sit up when I heard something, it was loud. And it got louder.
I listened carefully, straining to hear over the crack of the fire. Then suddenly, the fire flickered and then died out. The clearing which I now lived on was now pitch black. I had nothing to rely on but my senses. I could hear much better this time, and I knew the predator, whatever, or whoever it was, was getting closer. I crawled along the rock face, frantically feeling in front of me with my hands. I could feel a gasping breath behind me. I reached my hand up, feeling for a rock. I found it. The walls of the cave were now my new guide. I shuffled, quietly and nervously along the wall, when suddenly, I crashed into something. It must have hit me pretty hard. Everything went black, I mean, blacker than the darkness, and then everything was silent. I don’t know how long I was out for, but I didn’t know what I was in for when I awoke.
I woke, wrapped in a rug. The smell of incense drifted through the cave. I looked at the ceiling. It wasn’t familiar. This wasn’t my cave. I sat up, seeing now that it was hailing outside. I wriggled out of the blanket, kicking and struggling as I went. “Well, now. Don’t struggle, don’t struggle.” I held my breath for a short moment and then stood up. I looked at the figure, just standing there, a silhouette. It just stood, without a movement. The shadow moved to a small fire and sat down. It picked up a cup and moved forward, the light of the fire revealing the face. It was Uncle Andrew. He’d found me, finally.

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