MOUNTAIN BOY

In my Mountain

  Cold. Damp. I awoke in my sleeping bag, the morning air is damp. I look around my "cave". I am currently camping out in a little covered dent in the mountain.
I sit up wondering if the ashes of last nights fire are still smoldering. It's not. I struggle out of my sleeping bag and put my down jacket and boots on. It's about 45° here right now but it's early June so it should reach 70 by noon. After stretching and getting my boots on I walk to the creek to get fresh water and clean my face and hair.
  At this point, you are most likely wondering about why I live in a rocky dent with only a sleeping bag, a tee-shirt, some pants, and boots, plus an old fishing net and the stray cat that likes to sleep on my chest.

   My story starts 6 months ago, I used to live in an idyllic neighborhood with my mother and father and my sister. In November my sister was killed in a shooting. A week or two later I tried coming out to my parents because I was afraid of dying and them never knowing. (Watching you sister get shot really makes you think). Let's just say my mom was not happy and my dad kicked me out imminently. I was homeless in the town for a month or two until I had saved up enough money to buy chep boots, a decent sleeping bag, and a good down jacket. Then I started walking towards the woods. I just walked for about a week, until I got here.