The Wild

A Chapter by C.R. Rathkamp

Dream #001

The dream finished with a difficult task which had been completed. The mind of the savages of children had overclouded itself toward hate, and none were available toward salvation, including those who remained true to the Christ. The promise of savoring the thought of thinking had completed once the dream had awoken me from a deepened slumber. I will tell slightly what occurred in normal verse, which will defend my rights against the authority of those who remain true to selfless and selfish thoughts. Indeed, here we are, accompanied by the natural right of writing, promising only small hints of thought. Does the bad man understand his function in life without the promise?

In the beginning, there was lightning, and the shutter of that creation thought out the thunder which prevailed against the skies darkened thoughts. The clouds remorse and thinking of sin, awhile the child remained hidden in his bunker, listening to the adults talk about how they were to attempt to escape the woods without the children sacrificing them to the demon known as Beelzebub. The adults went first into the dark, possible escape exampled toward nothing. This child had to have been more than eleven years of age, and was able to obtain his sanity through and through without the love of the occult and devilish prevention to the soul he had contained throughout the journey. Also, there must, during times I did not reveal during the dream, must have been two different types of cats which made me think about reality outside the dream. Indeed, I had lost many animals before, but this cat at the end of the dream had been Tippy, the cat that left our household in search of another place to live. Also, another cat with white hair surrounding it's body had been shown, searching for another place to cover in the rain.

The dream had words, but the audible thought could not be achieved upon awakening. The adults, two with weapons, and one holding a lit lantern, seemed to be holding spirits within his hand, grasped tightly on the handle doorway to the woods.

“This place will eventually take me,” I wonder what the child had thought, listening to the rain hitting the puddles on top of the tent, which had been created from the drought brought into the single rain shower that covered the earth. As soon as the adults were missing from sight, the child had heard two shots, which seemed like echo's, seeming like four shots; matching the thunder with accurate authority dismissive from the hands outside his head. He awoke, not from slumber or sleep, but from the shots, his spirit was frightened and covered in thoughts of destruction and lost hope. For whatever reason there had been, he released himself from the bed, heard more severe shots firing from the weapon, a pistol perhaps. The child understood that it wouldn't aid the adults. So, indeed, the child started off in a walk, resetting his fear, and checking his feet which were covered in black elevator shoes. Nothing to wear in the jungle, wouldn't one think?

He started to understand the basic structure of his mind, the checking of his feet, the swift movement of his minds thoughts. He did not want to die. That was simple, but he continued to check his feet, or shoes, and continued to walk toward the window, which for whatever reason, was covered in duck tape on the walls of the shield covering the window. For a tent this made little sense, but I suppose there are some places that continually create weird chickens! As the child would think in a normal part of his own system without this whole dream about to dissuade his life. Now, as he reached for the window, and unraveling the tape, he continued to break the tape with his fingers, pressing forward, hearing no more gun shots, he thought that the adults were persuaded toward death. The spirits of the lantern would have been fallen into the earth soils, perhaps burnt out from the breath of the children savages whom were once his friends, called to understand the basics of his outward territory never becoming true.

The tape was off, but as the children began to take closer steps inwards onto the camp, more into the tent, the child who remained sane throughout his journey, had continued to apprentice the shades, which with the strength of his arms, continued to slide once after another, once after another, left; right; left, right, continually basically figuring out some sort of fantastic puzzle, which could be solved if the individual using the screen window had thought-out the plan. But, what if? What if you needed to go upward with the screen door, what if you needed to go down? What if it was North, East, South, West; West, East, North, South; and so on, and so on? Indeed, after twenty-one times of sliding the screen doors back and forth, all stacked together to create a wall, he could see the night, and the time that mattered.

The voices of the children who came to murder him and worship their pagan god had come, and were all ready to slice open the child into several connected flesh bits. But, as the child fought inward into the hole in the tent, he was able to escape the tent, which he thought that one of the leaders of the group had been close to catching him with the double bladed switch of life. The child continued to run through the rain, the mud beneath his blackened shoes, now stubborn on the earth. He could he inaudible voices reaching for him, but they were beginning to unravel, and change from humans to...indeed, animals of the wild. Perhaps they were simply moaning at the moon in thoughts? But the tree's above wouldn't allow such pride to be commissioned.

The fence that the adults had placed up were coming close to his view, but the child continued to run, continued to run, and continued to slip in and out of his shoes. All the same, the thought that the promise was closer than the essence of naturally bending conspiracy had never indulged into the child's mind. The fence was barbed wire, just like to keep cattle out of the territory, or, in a more satisfying meaning, to keep them from getting out and inward into the tent comparison. Somehow, the child was able to leap, using his legs to adjust the motion upward, and using his little hands, was able to obtain the top barb wire without sharp edges cutting his hand, and with bending wire, continued to sustain air as he dropped into the other side of the wild. The child landed cleanly on the soils of the earth, muddy, of course, but was able to continue running, but eventually each tale must close in its dream. The child continued to run abnormally, almost tripping over clouds of branches and misidentified roots planted in the earth.

Recall those cats I mentioned? Indeed, those little cats were located inside a tree circumference; a hole in the earth, placed in the tree's main burrow. The child jumped into the tree hidden in the ground, but his body was a little bigger than the hole, so he needed to burrow himself deeply into the earth, but if someone, or something had seen him already, or perhaps if the child needed to examine his surroundings, he would surely be caught dead. He greeted these thoughts, but neglected them in fear. At once, the white and gray tabby cat were available to hide among-st the child. There were also mice underneath this soil, and some began to bite his fingers; and onto instance, the rain began to cease, but not entirely. Without proper deceleration, the child destined, and heard footsteps crushing leaves on the ground near his location. He covered his hand, which was bleeding at the tip like a pen had been caught in his flesh, and was released from it. The face of terror was brief. The end came, the knife jolted three times with three loud ominous sounds from the voice of one of the savage children. The child's face remained true to the wild, and would be no more; with one mouth remaining open from the shock, the child died as an alien in the land of New York City.

In the ending, there is judgment. In the ending, the light is final.