CaptainWacky
I want to smell dark matter
He made his way through the woods. Were they really woods? Didn't seem big enough. Wasn't it more of a nature reseve? Except there wasn't much nature. Still, there were trees. Lots of trees. That makes it a wood.
He didn't want to walk too fast because then he would have to go home and sit at his computer doing nothing for the rest of the day. He wasn't looking forward to that. So he walked slower. At least he was outside.
He remembered something. He remembered the time he'd noticed another path though the woods. Not as often walken as the one he was on, for sure. He'd just noticed it and decided to walk it one day. He'd found a...what would you call it? A shack? No, not even that. It was, like, something a homeless person would have made, he imagined, just to keep the rain out. Some old plastic things, some wood. There was even a fire in front of it. It hadn't been lit when he had found it. There had been no one there. But it had been exciting! To find this place, the possible dwelling place of a homeless person, in the middle of the woods, hidden. And it was hidden. It was as deep into the not so deep woods as it was possible to get. It was a fairly overgrown path. Yeah, it was deep. Hidden. Secret.
He'd imagine that a beautiful, mysterious girl lived there. He was always imagining scenarios where he'd somehow meet a beautiful, mysterious girl. She would be troubled, but an amazing person. He would help her face the world again. They would fall in love. They would have sex in her shack, under the stars.
Of course, it was more likely some smell homeless man with a long beard and crazy hair. He hadn't liked that idea as much, but he'd tried to make it fun. Perhaps the homeless man was a war hero, driven mad by his experiences in...Vietnam, he'd imagined, which was quite ridiculous. Okay, Iraq. But he would be an interesting guy, with stories tell. Life would get interesting!
He decided to look for the path again. There had been no one there last time. Perhaps today...he'd get lucky.
He walked back and forth several times before he noticed it. It was just as he had remembered, once he started. Well, there were more flies. A lot more. And the shrubbery was far more pointy. He didn't like that. There wsa a blockage, over grown, a long prickily bush blocking the way. But he managed to grab a non-prickily bit and move it out of the way, tucking it behind a tree. It was like opening a door. Yes, that's what it was. A door into another world. An exciting world. He took a few more steps forward.
He saw the shack. It was small tha he'd remembered. Barely enough room for a person. The fire was still there. But no beautiful woman, not even a crazy homeless man. He was angry. It had been hard, getting there, so many prickily things to navigate. And now nothing. He'd have to go home now. He stomped forward, angry.
A hypodermic needle went straight throug his shoe and straight through his foot. He could see it sticking, right through.
He was paralysed. Not even with pain, he'd hardly felt it, somehow. Just the thought of what it could mean. The first thing he thought was that now he had AIDS. He was almost entirely sure of that. The shack had been used by drug addicts, sharing needles, and now he'd trodden on one and become infected with AIDS.
It was not a good day. He felt an impotent rage taking over him. He had AIDS and there was nothing he could do about it! He wanted to lash out.
He tried to kick down the shack, with his other foot. He felt he toenail on his big toe shatter. That hurt, much more than the needle had. He couldn't walk now. He had a needle through one foot, a broken toe on the other. He was completely helpless. He heard a rustling behind him.
He span around to see an old homeless man with a long beard and crazy hair standing in front of him.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING TO MY HOUSE?" he shouted, then lashed out with a bottle of whisky.
At least he wasn't at home, he thought, as he fell backwards.
He didn't want to walk too fast because then he would have to go home and sit at his computer doing nothing for the rest of the day. He wasn't looking forward to that. So he walked slower. At least he was outside.
He remembered something. He remembered the time he'd noticed another path though the woods. Not as often walken as the one he was on, for sure. He'd just noticed it and decided to walk it one day. He'd found a...what would you call it? A shack? No, not even that. It was, like, something a homeless person would have made, he imagined, just to keep the rain out. Some old plastic things, some wood. There was even a fire in front of it. It hadn't been lit when he had found it. There had been no one there. But it had been exciting! To find this place, the possible dwelling place of a homeless person, in the middle of the woods, hidden. And it was hidden. It was as deep into the not so deep woods as it was possible to get. It was a fairly overgrown path. Yeah, it was deep. Hidden. Secret.
He'd imagine that a beautiful, mysterious girl lived there. He was always imagining scenarios where he'd somehow meet a beautiful, mysterious girl. She would be troubled, but an amazing person. He would help her face the world again. They would fall in love. They would have sex in her shack, under the stars.
Of course, it was more likely some smell homeless man with a long beard and crazy hair. He hadn't liked that idea as much, but he'd tried to make it fun. Perhaps the homeless man was a war hero, driven mad by his experiences in...Vietnam, he'd imagined, which was quite ridiculous. Okay, Iraq. But he would be an interesting guy, with stories tell. Life would get interesting!
He decided to look for the path again. There had been no one there last time. Perhaps today...he'd get lucky.
He walked back and forth several times before he noticed it. It was just as he had remembered, once he started. Well, there were more flies. A lot more. And the shrubbery was far more pointy. He didn't like that. There wsa a blockage, over grown, a long prickily bush blocking the way. But he managed to grab a non-prickily bit and move it out of the way, tucking it behind a tree. It was like opening a door. Yes, that's what it was. A door into another world. An exciting world. He took a few more steps forward.
He saw the shack. It was small tha he'd remembered. Barely enough room for a person. The fire was still there. But no beautiful woman, not even a crazy homeless man. He was angry. It had been hard, getting there, so many prickily things to navigate. And now nothing. He'd have to go home now. He stomped forward, angry.
A hypodermic needle went straight throug his shoe and straight through his foot. He could see it sticking, right through.
He was paralysed. Not even with pain, he'd hardly felt it, somehow. Just the thought of what it could mean. The first thing he thought was that now he had AIDS. He was almost entirely sure of that. The shack had been used by drug addicts, sharing needles, and now he'd trodden on one and become infected with AIDS.
It was not a good day. He felt an impotent rage taking over him. He had AIDS and there was nothing he could do about it! He wanted to lash out.
He tried to kick down the shack, with his other foot. He felt he toenail on his big toe shatter. That hurt, much more than the needle had. He couldn't walk now. He had a needle through one foot, a broken toe on the other. He was completely helpless. He heard a rustling behind him.
He span around to see an old homeless man with a long beard and crazy hair standing in front of him.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING TO MY HOUSE?" he shouted, then lashed out with a bottle of whisky.
At least he wasn't at home, he thought, as he fell backwards.
