The forest

A young man and his father walk in the forest. Follow the man's train of thoughts as they walk through the thick brush.

The clouds that day were a dark shade of gray, a miserable color to look up to on a summer evening. Father had brought me out into the forest, thinking that the cool weather would be a relief from the dreadfully warm days we had been having, but it just made the forest feel like an unfamiliar place.

Chills ran through my body as we walked through the thick brush. It made me wish we had never left the comfort of our home. I had no choice but to go for a walk with my father, after all, what kind of a man would I be to not accept his offer?

You'd think that that time of year would be boiling hot, with the humidity and all, but this day was certainly not the typical seasonal day. In fact, it was so cold that I was quite surprised that it hadn't snowed that day. But, my father being the queer man he was, went for a walk with only his usual linen shirt and trousers. He was indeed an odd man. His choices like walking in the woods on such an evening, reflected in his choice of clothing on such a glacial day.

It took a while for my body to heat up, whereas my father seemed to have no issues whatsoever. We had walked for a good hour and I proposed that we head back to our cottage, but father wanted to continue. At that point I was a bit lost, I wasn't exactly sure where we were headed, and when we'd get there. I wasn't even sure if we were headed anywhere to be honest.

My mind wondered as I created scenarios of what may happen. Ideas of terrible creatures capturing us after sun down popped up and I feared for our safety. Once again, I suggested that we were to head back, and once again my father refused to turn around. We just walked straight, and it felt like we had forever.

I started to question my father's actions. Is the monster I should fear not the one that could be lurking in these woods? Is there something, a plan that I have been lured into? What if father is bringing me here to murder me? Does he have the heart to do such a thing? That thought never left my head, and as the sun went down, my fear grew stronger and stronger.

Suddenly, we reached a clearing, and as we arrived there, my father took out his knife. My heart sank as I thought that this was the end of me. How all of this was my father's plan to get rid of his youngest son, or because he felt I had no use to him anymore. I fell to my knees and begged him for my life. I had never felt so powerless ever before.

He looked down at me and laughed deeply, a soft mysterious laugh that had no emotion. I could not tell what he was going to say or do next. Father took my hand and pulled me back up. "Son, do you not remember how we used to come out into this clearing with your older brothers and sleep under the stars?". At this point I felt a little relief, but I was starting to recognise my surroundings as he went on. "You used to love coming out here. It seems that you no longer find joy in camping with your father." His face had this disappointing look on it.

My father was a kind man, how could I ever had thought such terrible things? My father is not a murderer, and whatever led me to believe he could have done such terrible things was a ridiculous train of thought that was created because of an irational fear of the forest on that chilly summer evening.

The only thing that he did not explain, was why he was carrying a bucher's kniffe with him, and why he had taken it out at the campsite. I guess Some things my father does will never truly make sense...