It was cold and dark, the crisp Colorado wind finding its way
inside my jacket like cold air being pushed along by atmospheric
conditions. I was somewhere on the mountain, lost. Lost, like a human
who is in a location that is unknown to him. Or her.
I looked around for something familiar, but, as I mentioned before,
it was dark, like being in a place where there wasn't much light. I
sat down on the ground and looked through my backpack, trying to find
something that would help me out.
I took everything out and laid it in front of me: GPS unit, two-way
radio, cell phone, flashlight, canteen. Damn it! I thought,
nothing useful.
But wait! There was something else hidden in my backpack, like an
item resting unseen in an accessory that you use to carry supplies
whlie hiking.
It was my matchbook! However, there was only one match left, so
whatever I did I needed to do it right the first time. I was nervous,
like a person who realizes that they are in a difficult situation and
has only one chance to make things better. I found some kindling in
the brush, and started to make my bonfire. I added all the useless
stuff from my backpack - my trail maps, instruction manuals, compass,
snacks. To make sure the fire would get going, I also set on it my
flare gun and the dynomite I had been carrying around.
I very carefully took out my one remaining match. I had only one
shot at getting this fire started. I held the match near the kindling
and paper and lit it. Fire! It worked! I set the flaming match against
the paper. It started on fire! It was working!
I stood next to the fire, helping to get it going to a proper
blaze. The fire grew, and slowly consumed the flare gun. Suddenly
there was a loud explosion, and I felt a searing pain, as if a
projectile had been fired towards my body, exploding upon hitting my
hand, leaving only a bloody stump below the elbow.
It's a small price to pay for my rescue, I thought.
I laid down next to the fire, knowing that someone would see the
blaze and come rescue me. This isn't so bad, I thought to
myself, as the fire reached the dynomite. I didn't even feel a thing,
as the explosion ended my life, bits of wood, metal and plastic
ripping into my body like bits of wood, metal and plastic ripping into
my body.
This isn't so bad.
1 comment:
If Jack London blogged.
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