Andrew's Tears

Chapter 7

{Chapter 7}

            As soon as the tears subsided Andrew fell asleep. Sleep always seems to bring triumph over emotions. But, this sleep was troubled. It was filled with a terrifying dream, and Andrew immediately bolted up from where he lay. His mind whirred at what had just happened, and picked up a pen and a piece of paper from a binder.

            He began to write as soon as the page hit a firm surface.

            I stand in a forest. The tree’s cover what little sunlight is left in the twilight. A soft breeze blows through my hair. It smells of pine, but is mixed with a tropical smell. I cannot tell where it is that I am. Really, I don’t care all that much.

            All I know about myself is: I am a hunter. In my hands I hold a bow. With it, one measly arrow. I know that I am here to hunt something. But what, is lost in my memory and I cannot seem to recall it.

            No matter how hard I wrack my brain, I cannot recall a single thing except for those two details: I am a hunter, and I am here to hunt a beast. The forest is peaceful, though, and I don’t see any beasts.

            The breeze cools a sweat that has broken out across my neck. Huh, I didn’t notice it until now.

            I stand, rooted to the moist, moss covered forest floor, staring off into the trees directly in front of me. I keep willing for there to be a rustling, but there is not one. It is completely silent, save the rustling leaves caused by the breeze.

            I suddenly get distracted from the task at hand, when I begin to wonder where I am exactly. I know I shouldn’t be worrying of such trivial things. They still bother me, though. How is it I got here? I think. Especially, why do I have no memory?

            I begin to drift off again, thinking of unattainable thoughts. Suddenly, a rustling in the leaves grips my attention, and causes me to turn swiftly. I grip the bow with strong fingers. The muscles in my forearms bulge as I tighten my grip.

            I load the arrow onto the string, and pull back on the string, causing it to become taught. I aim at the rustling, waiting, waiting. What greets me, though, is not what is to be expected when you are hunting for a large beast. A rabbit shoots out from behind a canvass of green and bolts into the greenery on the other side of the clearing.

            As I watch the escaping bunny, I think, I could have used that for food if I am stuck here waiting any longer! Well, I guess I cannot use it anymore. I slowly release my grip on the string, and let it go slack. I begin my listening.

            I am not prepared for what happens next. The beast, a large mangy creature with missing hair on its back, and large fangs that protrude from its lips, comes bolting from the greenery, straight at me. I jump, and try to get a stronger hold on my weapon, but lose it in the process.

            The beast comes barreling at me and panic sets in. Why I am feeling this emotion befuddles me, even in this situation. I am a hunter and should be prepared for such an attack. But I am not, and have lost my weapon. I watch as the beast comes upon me, groping the ground at the same time. I cannot seem to get a solid grip on the thing!

            Finally, I fall to the ground, sliding my back to the ground just in time for the beast to jump in the air, and completely miss me. If I had done this even a millisecond later, I would have surely been ripped to shreds by the either the sharp claws that were fully out and ready for battle, or the sharp teeth that seemed to grow in size every second.