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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required In the woods no right of way, no right to live, no right to play. I travel quickly, as dusk is beginning. Woods are thick, on this day. Wood tick and spider heaven, I walk gingerly, on wet old leaves. Dog has deserted me, long gone, chasing things she thinks she sees. The air is thick, the sun is dying. I trip on a twig, I end up crying. My ankle feels sprained, my knee is quite broke, maybe dying. The woods are silent, but my hair is on end, something is watching. I will be devoured, through my tears the woods are blurry blotching. I scoot my sorry sore body over to a stick, hoping it is not a snake. Pain shoots through me with every single sad boot step I take. The dog is probably back at the house gobbling up a fancy steak. My husband has no boundaries when it comes to our lab, Big Jake. I inch my way to the steps in the forest, built of railroad ties. Each laborious step, has me feeling the terror of unseen eyes. A wolf? A coyote? A predator, of some sort no doubt. Landing hard on first step I scream, shriek and howl all about. An answering shriek comes from the forest to my immediate left. It raises the hair on my arms, and it quite takes my breath. A woman is being murdered in the trees next to me. A woman is being raped, and cut up into threes. Bristles on my arms curl my toes and frighten my face. Whatever makes that devilish sound, is not of the human race. I stop and I think and I realize at once, I am clearly beaten. I sit and I wait for the mountain lion who has probably not eaten.
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