An Untitled Story

[Bleys]

Hi all,

I felt like doing some creative writing (it's been a long time!) and put together a couple of pages to intro a short story, in the same genre of TLD, but not based specifically in its world or locales. Interested to receive some feedback to see if this is worth continuing.

 

The steady, cold, crisp crunch of the snow under my boots was almost comforting. Almost. God knows how long it had already been, how many steps I had taken through this icy hinterland. Twenty minutes could have been twenty months. Fir and pine and pine and fir passed me on either side, content to push gradually upwards towards the sun while I had a much longer journey towards the horizon. But “you can’t eat trees” I reminded myself, and the last can of pork and beans from two days ago was long gone. There was nothing left to do but make the sojourn out into the frozen depths of the forest once again.

It could have been worse. The sun was shy, but at least it was there. The marauding winds that chilled the cabin over the past three days seemed to have finally worn themselves out. My toes reminded me that minus twenty is a damn good reason to be inside, but the counterargument my stomach made was far more compelling. “Ten toes but only one stomach,” it seemed to gurgle at me. “Should have been a cow,” I muttered, and the words crystallized into the air and disappeared as quickly as they formed. Just another reminder to save my breath and my energy for the long trek ahead.

A frigid gust of wind struck me in the face, forcing my head down as I pushed on. Indeed, my feet were still there, for at least as long as I could stave off frostbite. The chill was already under my skin and working its way into my bones, so there was no slowing down. But as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t risk going any faster. Sweating through a layer or two meant hypothermia, and with no shelter in sight it would just be a run towards the reaper. So at the same dreadful pace, I continued onward.

With each crunch of snow came a rattle or clink from my pack. The food from the cans may have been long gone, but the containers were still damn useful. Boiling water, shoveling snow, starting a fire, and the coffee tin even worked as a makeshift stove. And if I got bored, I could always play “Kick the Can.” My axe was starting to dull, but it still had enough life left in it and my sleeping bag was only a little worse for wear. On the other hand, no food, half a litre of water, and only half a box of matches. If I still had my magic eight ball, it wouldn’t be optimistic.

As I paused briefly to survey the area, I concluded that my imaginary eight ball was right. A ridge was forming a couple hundred metres to my left and seemed to drop off fairly sharply. On one hand, jumping could be a less painful death than freezing, but I was never really a big fan of heights. Off to my right, the trees grew denser and denser. Better to stay where I could see the sun than to lose the forest from the trees. Only one way to go, though I hated having my options limited.

As I continued forward, the ridge to my left crept closer and closer until I was out of the trees completely, about twenty paces from confronting my fear of heights. The wind picked up the further I walked from the trees, as if to warn me from getting too close to the cliff’s edge.

“Thanks, but I’m good.”

As I drew closer to the precipice, my heart started to race – there was a river running below, towards a clearing with a campground! But there was no way to get down. The ridge ran along for kilometres, and was equally treacherous in both directions. Disheartened, I set down my pack for a quick breather. There must be a safe way down…

[private duksworth]

thats a great story its a good intro with good describing words for the scene around the character. i would like to read more of this.