Forest Boy

[1]: The First Time

My family and I were in the car on the way to our cabin in the woods just like we did every summer break since I was five. Every year coming to the cabin seemed less like a treat and more like torment.

Our cabin was a large two-storey wooden hut; it had the modern look of those ones you'd see on the Internet and was located in the centre of an opening in the forest, not far from an enormous lake.

"Sophia, you go turn on the generator and I'll do all your unpacking OK?" My mom said once we arrived.

That was the usual agreement; I could stretch my legs and not have to unpack.

I nodded reluctantly and stuffed my phone in my pocket.

She pulled her copper coloured locs into a high ponytail as she began to rummage through her suitcase in the boot for a few seconds and then pulled out a deadly sharp hunting knife- my deadly sharp hunting knife. She planted the handle firmly in my open palm and gave me a stern look which meant only to use it if I needed it. Which was never. There was no danger in the forest surrounding our cabin or the large lake behind it or the expansive forest surrounding the lake. Nonetheless, I took it. I loved my blade like a child and when the time came, I knew he'd protect me as I protected him.

I was a fairly good shot with it, considering I'd been using knives to throw since I was ten, so for seven years. Obviously, back at home in the city, I couldn't use them and carry them anyhow. But here, I was pretty much free to do as I liked.

I took on the arduous trek to the generator shed, a ten-minute distance away if you power walked. However after that drawn-out drove to the middle of nowhere, I was knackered and so the walk would probably take an extra five minutes.

Every now and again a deer or squirrel would cross the slightly foot-eroded path I was walking on, but that was about it. There wasn't anything dangerous that would kill you in England.

Below the trees I was walking under, it was cool, the incredibly thick layer of leaves blocked out and absorbed a lot of the sunlight, so there was pretty much no plant life on the forest floor, except for the lucky few who managed to grow in areas where sun rays could reach. Apart from that, there was nothing but brown, dead leaves.

What a joyous path to be walking along...

For a while, I had been hearing rustling in the trees above me but I took no notice of it instead I persuaded myself that it was just a squirrel. A very large and intimidating squirrel. I gripped my knife tighter, however, just in case it was some kind of deranged meat-eating squirrel.

As if.

After a few minutes of raising my guard, a large branch snapped above me and landed right at my feet. It could've flattened me! What did I do? I was minding my own business... just clutching a knife for defence. Animals didn't exactly know what knives were anyway, they didn't know it was dangerous so they wouldn't feel threatened by it. But how did it fall? Furthermore, what creature is large enough to break a branch that was bigger than me? I peered up in the leaves, trying to make out a figure, trying to see what tried to kill me.

Whatever it was, if it did it again, I was going to find it and kill it because then I'd know it was doing it on purpose. Stupid creature. That kind of situation wouldn't occur in the city, and you'd see what it was because there weren't any stupid trees hiding it! I heavily exhaled in an attempt to calm down my nerves and my growing anger.

Nothing more had happened by the time I arrived at the generator shed, but I knew I was still being followed, and still being hunted. If I let whatever it was that was hunting me know that I knew it'd likely come out and ambush me. That wasn't what I wanted. I didn't want to be mauled to death and then eaten on my first day back at the cabin.

I entered the old wooden shack which contained the generator and looked around. It got grosser looking every time I came; cobwebs everywhere, dust had settled on practically everything, ants and woodlouse were crawling about the desolate place. I physically felt my lungs fold away just so they didn't have to come in contact with the foul air. I hurried to flick the switch and waited for the disturbing sound of its engine to start churning.

I gradually pried open the cabin door to reveal a figure stood leaning on a tree across from the shed. I panicked, impulsively threw my knife at them and slammed the door shut behind me. It was a male. I could tell by the short hair and his lean frame, but I didn't look long enough to work out the age or any weapons. They definitely were not one of my family members.

Someone was out there trying to assassinate me, and now they had the perfect chance. I was trapped inside of a shed, and they had my knife and maybe their own weapon. I was so stupid! Why the hell did I throw the knife?

My heart was racing away in my chest, and my breathing was jagged as I leant on the door to keep it shut, keeping the murderer out and my guts inside my body. All sorts of thoughts were flying through my head, and why wouldn't they when you're on the verge of death? I could only nervously rub the side of my nose.

I glanced down at my trembling hands and then at my phone. No signal of course. I couldn't call my parents or the authorities to inform them of my impending death.

"Get away from me!" I screamed, "I've got another knife. I'll cut you."

The voice laughed, "will you, now?" This was no laughing matter, but he knew he had the advantage. The second I opened that door he could attack me, and then I'd be done for. "Were you aiming for me when you threw that knife? You got it wedged into the tree beside me. You could've killed me, you know."

His accent was... off. It sounded bizarre, like a mixture of Irish, American and British. Maybe I could use that to identify my... murderer. Right! Can't identify anyone if I'm not alive! I really was about to die and some of my last coherent thoughts would consist of me trying to piece together my murderer's accent.

I hesitated before answering, my voice kept getting stuck in my throat, "you're the one trying to kill me, you psychopath."

"Coming from the one who threw a 3-inch blade at me," the voice responded almost immediately, sounding somewhat amused.

"I said get away from me!" I repeated in a firmer tone. I didn't have any plans up my sleeve, maybe I could continue to trick him about me having another knife to intimidate him. Maybe if I waited long enough one of my family members would come to see where I am. But by then I could be dead.

"I'm not near you," he said after a while of silence between us, "I'm not trying to kill you. I don't know what made you incorrectly assume I was a murderer, but if you come out, you'll see. I'll go back to the tree, and if I'm going to kill you, you can just throw that knife at me you claim you have. OK?" His tone was trifling, completely amused by the situation which was anything but funny!

Dammit! I didn't have a knife.

I took in a deep breath and swung open the door with my right hand behind my back, gripping nothing but my own sweaty fingers and hope.

A flash of blue and red and I was slammed into the shed wall behind me, with the feeling of cold metal pressed against my neck. A lump formed in my throat and when I swallowed nervously, it pressed it further onto the blade. My eyes were fastened shut, but I knew what was going to happen. I was done for; I was as good as dead.

"Caught you," the voice whispered in my ear, and the slyness in their cruel voice signalled that I was done for.

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