Itinerant Chronicler

Misdeed Chapter 1

After some effort he finally managed to force his eyes open. Consciousness rewarded him with pain all over his body, and a deep darkness. They finally caught me, he thought to himself; I must be in a prison cell. When his ears started working they detected, not the sound of rattling keys and slamming cells, but the faint chirp of crickets. He heard, and felt a warm breeze, and he realized he was lying on dirt, not stone.

Cautiously he tested his arms and legs. They seemed to be working fine. It did not seem as if he had broken anything. He tried standing up and met with a net of tangled vines and sticks over his head. After a few moments he managed to push himself through. Suddenly he was bathed in light from the full moon far overhead. Looking around bleakly, he tried to reconstruct those last few moments before he ended up a buried in a thicket. He looked behind him and saw a rather steep hill. Suddenly he remembered. He literally ran over the edge of the hill, which looked more like a small cliff to him, especially looking at it from the bottom up.

He must have fallen into this brush and the fall knocked him out. If that were true does that mean that those chasing him had given him up for dead? Surely they must have, they had to have seen him fall. Satisfied with the thought, he glanced down at the ground looking to make sure the forest floor had no other surprises in store for him. Through the faint moonlight filtering through the trees he could make out footprints in the brush around him. They seemed to have passed right by him and headed further into the forest. He suddenly realized they had not seen him fall, and they had not given him up for dead. When he fell the brush where his body came to a landing must have concealed him from his pursuers. Instead of that sudden fall delivering him into the waiting hands of his would be executioners; it had given him a second chance to escape with his life. What amazing luck, he thought to himself.

Stumbling out of the brush, he wondered which way to go. Forward seemed out of the question, that was the way the men chasing him went. He obviously could not go back the way he came either. That left him with only two other directions, so he randomly picked one and headed off, hoping that his hunters did not realize they had lost him and doubled back.

Now he was walking through the forest, making every effort to be as silent as possible. Every snapped twig or crunched leaf sounded like a cannon going off in his ears. Then his body reminded him what it had gone through today. His lungs no longer burned, but his side still ached. Not to mention, his entire body was now sore from the fall. At least he was not being forced to run. He was certain his battered body could have kept up the same frantic pace he had been keeping all day. Most importantly, no one was shooting at him.

After what seemed like an hour or two of walking the forty year old man was starting to become very tired. He was not exactly an old man, but he was also not terribly fit, after the stress he had endured all day it was not surprising that his body was becoming drained. He need to rest, real rest, not the kind he got from taking a plunge over an unseen hill that left him unconscious in a tangled bush. He walked a short distance further before the outline of a large structure began to appear between the trees. He headed towards it as stealthily as he could, and he noticed as he walked the forest was becoming thinner. Soon the forest was gone and he found himself looking at a field the forest opened into.

He quickened his pace, for which he was rewarded. A large barn came into full view. Cautiously, he crept up to it. He was afraid someone may be inside the barn, so he approached it as carefully as he could. He tried to calm himself by thinking that it was far too late for anyone to be there, but judging by his luck today it would not be surprising to him if a whole damn army garrison was inside it.

He looked the outside of the barn over, and could see that it was not used often, if it was used at all. The sides of the barn appeared to be in a state of disrepair. The paint on the barn had mostly worn away, leaving the wood beneath at the mercy of the elements. The wood was bowing and splintering in many places. It looked shabby, but at least it looked like it wasn't going to fall in on him.

He walked around it and finally found the door, which faced an open field. The barn sat at one end of the field, he had approached it from the rear. He could see wooden posts driven into the ground near the door. He could see metals rings on the posts. He decided they were most likely for tethering horses he. He lost interest in these quickly though, his attention turned to the two large wooden front doors. Oddly enough, these appeared to be in decent repair compared to the rest of the structure.

He grabbed one of the door handles and gave it a pull, nothing happened. He looked at the door confused. Maybe it's secured from the inside he thought to himself. He thought about moving on, but he needed to get out of the open. Those searching for him may have given up for the night, but he knew they would be after him again at morning's first light. His ears heard the faint snap of a twig somewhere near the forest line, and his fear instantly returned. Maybe they had not given up for the night after all. He couldn't see anyone hidden in the trees, but the forest was dark and it concealed everything. There was no torchlight either, but that may be a moot point, the moon was plenty bright enough to light the way without torches or lanterns, especially in the thinned outer edge of the forest. He also figured that if someone had seen him that he would have already been shot by now. The thought was not particularly comforting, and he decided then and there that he needed to get in the barn.

For a second time, he placed his hand on the door handle, and pulled once again. This time, his fear loaned him some extra strength. His battered body finally managed to overpower the old hinges and the door started to open. Surprisingly, and thankfully, the old and presumably rusted hinges made no sound as the door opened. Soon, he had managed to open the door wide enough to slide his body inside.

Continued in Misdeed Chapter 2

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