The Crow that Reaps

The Crow that Reaps

  T.F.B

  By Tyler Brown (T.F.B)

  Copyright 2013 Tyler Brown (T.F.B)

  The world is capable of tearing you up on the inside. I don’t need to tell you these things. You yourself can admit it. Some mornings it can be hard to rise from under the covers. As time wears on your body begins to ache and sharp pains course through your chest making your fears collide into your soul. Sometimes you have to drown out the fear and pain. You can drain a bottle or pollute the flesh with cheap food. Either way, the end result is the same. Death will be standing by your bed one night, slowly pointing his bony finger in your wasted direction.

  Everyday can be the same process, the same nightmare. You wake up and pull your broken body into work and feel the same stresses fall upon you. Family should be the equivalent for love and happiness, but the only thing you receive is a fresh load of baggage that pushes you deeper into the six foot hole that has been dug for you. You can try to tell your lover about it but they cannot put themselves in your place. A lot of times they will refuse to. You can’t blame them, they only casket comfortable for them is their own.

  Then on day it hits you. Your miserable and you’re afraid you will die miserable. You are sitting at the table with a fresh beer and a stack of bills for dinner and the only thing you see is a grim reaper in your eyes. You close your eyes tight to hide him. You rub your temples and think about the times when you were the most happy. Your childhood flashes into your mind and you see yourself out hunting with your grandfather. The taste of fresh cook rabbit fills your mouth and it waters at the thought. Memories of fishing with him down by the creek can almost bring tears to the surface. Then it all becomes as clear as these memories. Why live and die miserable when you can easily give it all up for the happiest times of your life? That’s what I did. Now I will tell you what happened.

  Everything I described happened to me. I was hitting rock bottom at a fast pace and the pressure of the world was breaking me into pieces. The line was drawn in the sand after a dream I had. It was a nightmare of sorts. The kind that appear very vivid but are nothing specifically scary. It showed a cloaked figure walking or floating. That part of the scene was very unclear and suddenly crows were flying everywhere. It was like I was trapped in a storm of crows. They flew at me, squawking away. Large black feathers danced around me. The flock of birds formed the shape they originally were, a clocked figure.

  I awoke from the dream with a cold chill sliding down my back. It felt as if a bony cold finger was rubbing the skin along the spine of my body. Memories rushed back from my past. My grandfather teaching me to trap and fish. It all became very clear. The sun was beginning to peak, orange and pink colors began to flood the dark sky. I drove my truck down to an old bridge I used to fish off of. The creek below was massive surrounded by acres of forest that stretch out across the state. Every so often there is a news report on someone who goes missing in these woods. It takes helicopters to scale the whole area. Most of the time people are found. I hope to be part of the few that are not. . I parked and got out, purposely locking my keys inside, because I knew I would never be coming back for it. It would take my family several days to realize I was gone. They never appreciated me much at all. It would probably be weeks till my vehicle would be found at all since this old road was rarely taken. By then, I would be long gone. Wisped away into the wilderness like a fallen leaf in the wind.

  I walked down under the bridge hardly noticing the graffiti painted under the bridge. I instantly noticed deer prints sitting in the mud indicating deer were crossing here. Lesson learned from my grandfather. I was carrying a very large hiking bag, filled to its teeth with supplies I would need for my journey. I really didn’t know what I was doing or where I was going I just walked down stream. The sun spilled its light slowly through the trees, warming everything it touched. The rays of light licked my face as I trekked on. I took note on the warmth feeling good on my skin, knowing that later the sun would be brutal on this late spring day.

  My backpack weighed a ton and after a few hours of walking my back needed a break. A groan moved through my stomach as I had worked up an appetite. I took my only water bottle out of my bag and had a sip. I pulled the pieces of my pole out of the bag and assembled it. I connected a lure to the end of the hook and casted out into the creek. All the pressure of my life from the day before vanished as I sit and listened to the sounds around me. The trickle of water from the creek, birds chirping, squirrels scratching their way up a tree branch.

  I felt good for the first time in a while but the first thing I learned about life is that there is always something lurking around the corner, hiding in the brush. Just waiting to find an opportunity to sink its teeth into your happiness and tearing a piece straight out. As I was sitting looking for a fish to bite my line I noticed a small dead tree leaning over the creek. I noticed a large black crow was sitting on the branch staring me down. It never squawked or anything, just stared in my direction the whole time, occasionally turning its head in interest.

  The crow made me feel uneasy and shuddered as it reminded me of the dream from the night before. After an hour or so I never had a single bite on my line. So I reeled in and got ready to trek farther down the creek. The crow flew up into the sky squawking loudly. I was glad to see it gone, now my only worries were finding food sometime soon.

  The sun began to beat down on my skin, frying my neck and scalp red. Pain was present in my back as I trekked. Blisters formed on my feet from the wearing of my boots. The heat was heavy on me. I drained through my only water bottle. Now water was becoming my first priority. I trekked on till I came to a small rock stream that was flowing into the creek. I followed the small stream up behind a tree. The water was pulled with a rock bottom. Water was flowing up a hole in the ground. I found a fresh water spring. I took a handful of water splashed it on my face and back and took healthy sips. The cool water felt good as it rolled down my throat. I made sure to drink plenty and to refill my water bottle. I noticed in the tree above me sat two large black crows, staring at me with curiosity.

  I felt lucky to find a spring right off the back. Water is very important for survival in the wilderness. The water from the creek is much dirtier and I am likely to get sick. Common sense really but I need to keep that thought close in mind. You never know what could happen if I ever run out of water. The temptation of thirst after a while might stick a large seed of stupid hope in my mind. I am lucky for now, but I know Mother Nature herself will throw curve balls at me soon enough.

  I began to trek on walking down by the creek, occasionally scaring a few frogs to jump into the water. A memory of my grandfather teaching me to fish for a frog with a red lure came to mind. He said if you dangle a fish hook with some type of red lure on it in front of a frog’s nose they will bite for it. Then you caught a frog. It can be a bit of a challenge to get the hook out of its mouth. Frogs are very slippery and a trick my grandfather taught me was to rub its belly. It makes the frog turn to stone petrified. Hypnotized and paralyzed so you can easily retrieve your hook. Though none of that is usually needed, because if you had a nice frog gig you could just kill the frog right on the spot.

  Farther down the stream a came to a small fawn doe laying in the creek. It wasn’t dead or anything just looked wet and cold. It was crying for its mother. I felt bad for it, even though one day when it’s older I could possibly hunt this deer for food. I heard movement in the brush on the opposite side of the creek and it was followed by a loud snort. Mother deer was nearby and I thought it was best to keep going on my way and leave the fawn to its mother.

  I loved deer hunting when I was younger. It was hard to pick up as a kid. It takes a lot of patience but once you g
et that down and you kill your first deer, it’s an adrenaline rush no drug can conquer. I knew it will only a matter of time before I am going to need to kill one. Probably in the winter after some snowfall. Then I would be able to keep it cold and fresh. The initial thought of fresh deer meat made my stomach growl.

  I walked on, feeling more and more positive with each step. I was all alone in the great outdoors I just knew that nothing will get in the way now. How wrong I was. I look back on this day and will always remember how hard the first day was. Slowly, I became dirty. A little mud here, some sweat rolling there, and perhaps a few faint scratches from brush that slapped me as a passed by. No playground can be as rough as the playground Mother Nature built. It will harden you over time if it doesn’t kill you first.

  I stopped to get a drink of water and I sat on the ground for several minutes before I realized my right arm was lying against some poison ivy. I cursed myself and laid my arm in the creek to try to scrub any poison residue that hadn’t soaked into my skin yet. A small flock of crows landed in a tree nearby. I could hear them squawking again. I