Wandre

A.N.: Based on a true story...when I went camping I had to go on a night hike alone on one of the darkest nights in history...a meteor shower was going on, but I didn't get to see it. Innywho, enjoy. :D

Stars were sprinkled above her like salt spilled on the table. She had been on this trail before, but she had never seen it like this. In the dark. She could hear a cricket chirping in the distance, and like an echo in an amphitheatre, every sound was amplified. The sound of twigs crunching under her icy feet made a noticeable crack. When her sneakers hit on a bulging tree root, it made a hollow thump.

When she hiked this trail in the morning, earlier that week, it was dashed with mushrooms and grass and moss and twigs and tree roots, like debris from a forestry disaster. But now all of those things were covered in a thick, misty blanket called night, with only a few visible breathing holes called stars. If she could pay close attention to the so-called stars, she could probably find Orion’s Belt, but she was too busy trying not to kill herself on this hike in the dark.

It must have been one of the darkest nights in history, because she couldn’t even see her own hands. When she crossed her eyes, she couldn’t even see her own nose. She nearly toppled over a stray rock at the thought of—oh my gosh I think I’m blind. But when she looked up at the tabletop sky, the stars were still there, egging her on. Let’s go, let’s go.

She could feel the ground under her feet. It was supposed to be the hard, rusty crust of the trail, but it was mushy and soft, the feel of underbrush and wet redwood needles. She shuffled her feet, trying to get back on trail and not collide with a tree at the same time. She could hear the twig-like branches above her brushing on her hood. It sounded like raindrops plopping on her head, and she tried to shake the “raindrops” off, trundling down the off-trail mush and into a nice, sturdy tree. Is that a person? Her thoughts were fuzzy and she was disoriented—like a wanderer.

Her mind started spelling everything in her head—I SPACE W-A-N-D-R-E. She didn’t know that she spelled it wrong, but the thought of being a wandrer made her wander on. Her arms out in front of her like wings, she navigated her way through based on a map of pure luck and guesswork.

Then she could hear the whispered voice in front of her: “Good job, you made it,” the voice whispered. The voice hugged her, gave her warmth. She looked up at the breathing-hole stars, and she wandred up and up and left and right, her eyes skidding until she could see over the impenetrable night.

If she could pay close attention to the so-called stars, she could probably find Orion’s Belt, but she was too busy. Too busy staring at the wisp of light that streaked across the blanket sky like a staccato stroke of paint.

If she could pay close attention to the so-called stars, she could probably find Orion’s Belt, but she was too busy. Too busy letting her mind wandre.