Theo's War

Theodore Mendez is a man living his life within the depths of the Californian forests, living on the fat of the land.

Theo’s War

PART 1

In a woods north of California, there was a shabby rundown cabin that lay silently near a lake. Beside the wood cabin was a stock of logs; each had been cut recently by the man that slept within. Inside the shanty house it smelled as though death had risen and fallen numerous times. The man that slept on the bed of twigs and straw lurched to fro from the nightmares that would constantly awake him in cold sweat. Theodore Mendez shot up forward and sat on the edge of his bed, heaved over his aching body. He put on his beaten cloths and unrecognizable running shoes to start his lasting week of strenuous labor. Winter was near and he could not go preparing meat without the use of salt to preserve it. Fruits and such would last fine by the pockets of air made during the first few weeks of snow. As such he needed to venture into the city to obtain his necessity; salts and a new axe. His last axe broke while chopping his firewood; without his axe he was virtually defenseless and useless.

But today he would write the words he has kept hold for the last three years. Three years of silence had finally broken the limitation of isolation. It had brought him endless time to ponder his thoughts, endless time to meander to worldly issues. Yet today he felt the need to write his story, his ideas, and what had brought him to the point in which he stands. From beneath his twig bed he revealed a backpack filled with loose sheets of writing paper and two pencils. He sat down on the floor, in the corner of the room, and he began to leak his thoughts onto the empty sheet.

November #1

I lived in a dirt house in East Side Street. It wasn't dirt when my parents had bought the house; it was a smug, pretentious white that never disgusted me until they changed the color. The driveway resembled one of those lava infested islands, but even then the driveway was inhospitable to any life that grew within the cracks. The garden that hid behind the dirt house had been nothing but dirt. It was a barren wasteland, yet unlike the paved black rock, it could potentially support life. Its one tree was the only truth to this theory; it sprouted through the ground and conquered a quarter of the garden. I can’t say I remember the tree that well, but I was told by my brother that it had been beautiful. The tree scarred the sky and from one of its branches hung a swing that gave me endless fun during the scorching summer.

Yet, I don’t remember being held by the tree’s arms, I don’t remember the brown moor that I crawled on. I don’t remember the unimaginable heat of the blistering summers.

Much of what I pictured had come from the stories of my mother. My life had not started until my first long memory, my memory of eating rocks by the side of the dirt house. The reasoning that seemed so solid back them is full of fault ignorance. I believed that my teeth were the strongest in the world, that I could crush rocks beneath the force of my everlasting jaw.

Some memories relay back to me constantly, willing and begrudgingly trying to continue its presence. I would often�"very young�"walk barefoot as a far I could along eastside. At some point I would stop and look back to see the distance I covered; I would imagine it as being like a pilgrim crossing a vast dangerous land. I would attempt to voyage across this land unscathed by the sharp rocks that would pierce my delicate feet. After few months of crossing the river junctions and the starving wolves that blocked my passage, I made it to the end of the pilgrimage. A Sea blocked me from furthering my conquest up due north; I had reached Grand Avenue.

My journey had ended and I returned back to my home; only to find my mother furious over my whereabouts. I stopped venturing that day.

End of November #1

Theodore closed his beaten eyes and stood up from the corner of the room. He left the sheets of paper on the floor and laid his head to rest on the straw bed. The worries of winter had still not left his thoughts; death is imminent without his axe or a well-stocked stash of meat and berries. He raised his fist into the air and noticed the jitters that ran along his hand, the frailness that had developed over the years of harsh winters. Yet it was not like this all year. He fell asleep and fell into one of the first memorable slumbers he had for a while.

When he awoke he searched for his papers and began to write down his thoughts again.

November #2

Since the month after my birth I had gone to mass every single day to worship the deity that we unanimously call god. It wasn’t until I was ten that I had wondered who he was. The day I went to church school was the day I became agnostic�"almost atheist. When I entered the classroom, 48 eyes pierced my soul and almost embarrassingly all looked away from me. My teacher�"a middle-aged Latina woman�"was one of the many reasons I moved away from religion. She was one of the saddest and most avoiding people I had ever met, to the day.

Her life story was one of tragic endings and no fairy tale. Her mother and father passed away when she was young, making her an orphan. She traveled with her sister across the Mexican border when it was once a river and made it to the safe haven of United States. After three years of wandering with her sister in the streets, her sister left her behind. Alone and starving in the streets of California she was left to die. An American couple found her in rags and took her in. Soon, however, she was in the streets again; the husband had attempted to take advantage of her and she fled from his grasps. Finally she found someone willing to help her�"her future ex-husband. A few years pass and she has two daughters. Unbeknownst to her, she soon gains another daughter to the family. Her sister passed away from unknown circumstances and had her as the recipient to the daughter, and nothing more. Death and tragedy followed her as she pilgrimage to an average life; her only escape from this torment had been spiritual relief. She turned to god.

Her class had been gruelingly demanding. She would state fiction as fact, and science as mediocre magic. Nothing made sense. Curiosity had gotten the best of me during the class and I often questioned her fallacious philosophy. I’d ask her questions relentlessly.

“Who’s God?” I’d ask.

“He’s Our Savior.” She’d reply.

“How is he three people?”

“He is God, he is enigmatic�"he’s a mystery to us all.”

“How does God exist?”

“Have faith.”

“Where does he come from?”

“Have faith.”

“Where is he?”

“Have faith.”

Have faith had been her favorite saying. Have faith that he exists within our hearts. Mysterious and abstract concept of God had pushed me away, further from the grasps of the house of God. I endured two years of praising, celebrating a god that I had never fully understood. The only day I fully enjoyed was the last day, in which the entire family celebrated my communion with a party.

End of November #2

After an hour of frustration and writing he put down his pencil and readied his bags to venture through the woods and reach Big Lagoon’s local hardware shop and supermarket. The trip would take fourteen hours total, seven to reach the town’s commercial circle and seven to return to the cabin within the heart of the woods. Theodore would return to the cabin near sunrise of tomorrow morning. He very scarcely goes into town to obtain materials. It would be his first in the last two years, yet on occasions such as these he held a ball of money in order to pay for the materials.

Theodore opens the door to his cabin and walks out into the thicket of trees. As beautiful as it may seem on the tours that circulate the forest, rarely does light ever reach the ground. The prevailing light only seems to dim and fade into the fallen trees, revealing shadowy figure in its place. Theodore had never been one to truly believe in the existence of ghosts. He believed them to be as real as the glittery vampires that hunted up in the border of Canada. Yet these phenomenons of light seemed to be too true for him to ignore them. As he walked through the forest he would constantly pursue these lights until they faded from the leaves on the ground. He’d run up to one and it would scatter away, taunting him to follow along its trail. Three hours into the adventure he found one light that didn’t scatter as soon as he ran up to it; instead, it stood over him, blocking his pass to the other side of the trail. He tried to move past it only to be stopped by its blinding light. He attempted to speak to it, but no voice escaped his mouth�"two years passed before he had spoken again. Theodore could only scrape out an “Excuse me” from his closed throat. The radiating being opened its abdomen and formed a gate that opened to allow Theodore’s passage to the other side.

He made it to the edge of the forest and saw the hardware store a good distance away. He had wasted three hours fainted, smelling like a wasted drunk on a Sunday night. It did not improve the situation when he walked into the mart, looking like an actual wasted drunk�"yet on a Tuesday night. He slumped through the aisles, and found what he was looking for, an axe. The cashier at the front desk looked at him as if he were about to cut down the lives of a school bus of children.

“Did you find everything you wanted” said the 17-yr old teen worriedly; he did not want to become victim to the town’s second murder.

“Yes”, Theodore croaked as he took out his ball of money, counting to 78 dollars, falling victim to the increasing prices of axes. He walked away dragging the axe behind him; he was tired of the trip and wanted to return to his nook in the woods. Yet he had one more stop until he could return. He needed salt.

Walking along the road, he reached the market but to his dismay it was closed. It would not open until 9:00 a.m. and he did not have the time to wait for it to open. So he walked along the residential area, dragging an axe along the floor, looking like a drunk. He walked door to door knocking to see if anyone would be able to offer him their salt. After the thirtieth door he nearly gave up and planned to sit by the entrance of the market; however, one man opened the door. He saw the axe and slammed the door shut, running to call the cops before he gets cleaved by the homeless man on his doorstep. Theo sat down by the entrance and hid his axe behind him�"it finally dawned to him why others might be hesitant to help him.

He awoke to hear the jingling of keys and saw the manager walk up to the store front. He looked at Theo with a pungent face; it’s not often that a homeless man sits in front his store. The man walked in and closed the door behind him, leaving Theo behind. Theo tried opening the door, only for the manager to put the “we are closed sign” in his face. Theo banged on the pane doors until the man finally asked what he wanted.

“What do you want” questioned the manager.

“I just want to buy salt, that’s all, nothing more”, Theo asked the man for some salt. “I’ll pay you, I have money”.

The man looked through his small shop for a bag of salt, he returned to Theo and said, “Don’t pay me, just don’t sit in front of my storefront”. Theo walked into the woods carrying a sack of salt and a new axe. The trip took twice as long and the sun was setting by the time he reached a quarter ways into the woods.

Theo needed to start a fire and look for something to eat. He wandered around the woods looking for berries or dry sticks to feed a campfire; he could not stand another day without warmth. He luckily found a gooseberry bush with leftover berries from summer; a miracle in his eyes. He set up his fire there and ate the gooseberries there, they were overripe and bitter but food was food to Theo.

Theo finally reached the marked tree that meant he was near his cabin. The trip took two days rather than one; it reminded him of why he ventured into the forest. He continued on and saw the first glimmer of the lake, the silent ripples that allured him when he first ventured here. “Home sweet home” he yelled, birds rustling from the sudden scream. Opening the door, he saw his straw bed and relapsed onto the bed; two days of walking and hiking had taken a toll on his stamina. For now he wanted to sleep.

Yet he did not sleep, he looked over to the corner of the cabin and saw the thrown papers, his pencil on top. He sharpened his pencil and began to write.

November #3

My mother and I never had a stable relationship. At the early ages I understood that she was a supposed divinity. My mother fed me, clothed me, taught me, etc. Like any parental being, she raised me to follow her ideas and blindly agree to her bewildering beliefs. I�"like many other children�"am blocks of clay with an empty palette; it is neither wrong nor right to subjugate a child under one's wing. It becomes a matter worth talking when such child gains opinions of its’ own.   

Likewise, I grew many opinions through the ages of five to twelve. I saw the world through a kaleidoscope; the skies seemed royally blush; leaves were lush; the air had a hint of evergreen and cinnamon. Through some extraordinary way everything seemed so serene and youthful. At the age of 12 I began to see the world extremely pessimistic. History opened up a new of the world and it showed me the destruction and anger that follows humanity, but specifically religion. As such, I felt the need to revolt against religion. I stopped caring for religious studies and in various occasions, I skipped Mass all together. I would sit on the benches that held the other escapees and once it was over, I’d sneak into the hall and pretend I had been there all along.

My mother did not enjoy the fact that I missed mass nearly every Sunday; to the point that she would clamp her hand onto my wrist and force me into attending the morning prayers on both Friday and Sunday. My attempts to escape my captivity after a certain while seemed to be futile in the least. Once, I attempted escape by claiming the need to go to the restroom.  

“I need to go to the restroom”, I claimed.

“Para que?” For what she asked.

“I need to go to pee, I’ll be back like in two minutes”, I lied; I had planned to go and sit down near the food by the front courtyard. I had no intentions of going to the restroom.

“Ok pero rapidito”

Once I left I went near the restroom and took a sudden turn to the right to get to the courtyard. I sat there patiently reading a pamphlet they give out after every mass. On the front it read, “Retiro para la juventud cristiana en el 23 de Junio”. I sympathized for any poor fellow who had to venture through the depths of hell for three days at that reunion. On the following week my brother had been unwillingly forced to go to a Reunion for three entire days. He returned spiteful, yet he showed nothing to mother. Instead he protested the endless three days of solitude, in which he was confined without electronics or a sense of time; for in this retreat they removed clocks and watches to remove the idea of time. The only time that was necessary had been the time to worship God. He further developed my sense of dislike of religion; still he became a man of religion�"regardless of what had happened to him in those three days he prayed every night before sleep; ten Hail Marys’ and five Our Fathers�"no matter where we slept.

End of November#3

Theo stood from the corner and walked over to his bed; he wanted to fall onto his bed and sleep for the remainder of the day, but he would not be able to. He had to scavenge for food for the remainder of the day, looking to see if the snare he set up has caught anything. He grabbed his shawl, for it was cold outside, and left his cabin.

He checked the first two, only to find rotting rabbit stuck to the snares. On his third and fourth snare they had been both caught just recently, he has food to eat tonight. Walking back to his cabin, he noticed how cold it’s been getting these past few days. “Winter’s early” shot through his mind; he dared not think of what would happen if he could not scavenge enough late berries or meat in the following two weeks. If he takes too long the late berries will perish and the small game will nestle into their burrows. Then the only food he’d be able to get would be from the few fish in the lake or from foxes and mountain lions; neither easy to catch.

Setting up more snares, he needed to catch more small game this week than amount of last month. By the time he had finished his last snare, it was growing dark and ominously cold. He grabbed some of his pre-made firewood and threw it onto the fireplace. He cut up the rabbit, carefully removing its pelt to finish the pelt clothes for the Winter. He diced the meat and put it to lightly boil over the open fire.

While the meat boiled he grabbed his papers in the corner and began to write another entry.

November#4

A few years pass, and I become eighteen. Money became an issue once I turned thirteen, bills became fines and fines became threatening calls. Soon to the point that my parents went to a talk show host that was also a financial adviser. But who would believe that a talk show host would actually help them solve all their financial problems, I was skeptical. He failed to actually solve the problem and afterwards he charged them $100 for his service. They reluctantly paid him.

For many children, money is not something that would openly be talked about on the dining table; usually family parents would hide their stress within the confines of their room. In cases like mine, my mother and father would often talk about their problems at the dining table, in the kitchen, while watching television, and at a restaurant. As such, I grew to be a very frugal person. I’d rarely spend my money on luxuries like snacks or games and I wouldn’t know why I’d be saving it all. My family wasn’t frugal. They’d spend money on every occasion, particularly my mother and brother.

My mother raised my brother to be an identical twin to her. She would go and by us shoes and clothes, even if we weren’t with her. She loved seeing us with new clothes; I never enjoyed it. My brother, on the other hand, loved to buy luxurious items for himself. He would buy clothes he’d never wear and items he discarded after a newer version came out. I could never understand any of reasoning, and I avoided asking him. Yet soon, like my mother, he dug a hole; where he could not escape unless he took the time to find a way out and implement it. He complained and bickered, wondering how he had ultimately ended up in the hole.

It grew apparent to me what how my family ended up in the hole. We were placed in the hole. I saw this when my uncles, who gained a great amount of money ended up moving houses four times, ending up in an apartment in Long Beach. In the start they lived in a middle class house for about seven years, up until 2007 it was great. Then the housing market crash; of course they had been one of the families who bought their house on loan with a ballooning payment. They lost the house and were forced to move into a smaller house with three rooms instead of five. I don’t think they knew what had happened to the economy at the time, rarely ever complaining about the economy. But, of course as fate would have it, they lost that house too. Again being one to fall under a ballooning loan once again. Finally they ended up living within a mobile home community with two rooms: one bedroom and one kitchen. My family too felt the reverb of the housing crash. My family did not have a ballooning loan but with the rising prices and increase of living prices, we were too in the pit.

End of November #4

Theo folded the papers and noticed that the meat was almost done. He grabbed a wooden bowl and poured some of the rabbit stew�"without vegetables or anything such as�"and waited a few minutes for it to cool down. He took a sip of the stew and grabbed a pinch of the salt from his bag, “I deserves this” he thought, a treacherous week had nearly passed, and a treacherous path he still stands on.



Part 2

Winter ended and spring sprung from somewhere in the south. Theo had endured another harsh Winter, surviving with one more rabbit left in his stock. Now spring would lurch forward and bring new flora to the dead forest. Bunnies will copulate, fish will return from once they left, but what Theo looked forward to was the lake that froze over the winter.

Theo awoke from his deep slumber and noticed the sheaming light penetrating the window’s pane glass. After months of deathly cold snow, he could enjoy standing out of the cabin without wearing the clunky pelt coat that he wore. He stood over to the window and peered outside, the snow was finally melting. He needed to go and put down some snare; he needed to ensure that he would reduce the amount of rabbits killed to increase the future amount of rabbits.

He put on his clothes and pelt clothing; as much as he wanted to go outside without the pelt, it was still too cold to go outside with just his clothes. He opened the door, walked outside, and drew a long heaved breath, “winter’s finally over”, he croaked. He went to unhook some of the snare noticed that he caught a few rabbits already; he snapped one of the twigs off, essentially breaking the snare. He put the rabbits into his bag and walked over to the lake. He threw a rock and it plopped right threw one of its weaker sections. Theo ran off into the forest looking for early tart berries.

Once he returned he put one of the rabbits to stew and then prepared the other ones for storage. Once he had three pelts and the meat hanging to dry for a little, he started to continue his writings in the twentieth page.

March #15

In high school I was not the best of the students. Actually I was the twenty-fifth of four hundred students. But I was not number one nor was I any near it. I pushed myself to the limits, taking A.P. classes at any opportunity; I passed every test with a 4. I’d prepare myself for both the college tests, only to be placed at the 93 percentile, compared to the rest. I fought and fought countless hours of sleep deprivation, sometimes sleeping for two hours a day for a week. I was still the twenty-fifth of four hundred. And I was the one million three hundred and eighty six thousandth person out of nineteen million high schoolers. I was not ‘the’ best. Teachers would tell me that I was one of the best students and to strive for first. How could I be the best when you do your best? You can’t.

In Senior Year of high school I sent my applications to colleges around the country, hoping to escape Sunny California. Around the early spring of my senior year I found letters of colleges coming back to me. I opened the first one, “Sorry”. I closed it; I opened the next one, “We are sorry to inform you”; then came the one after that one, “sorry”, and then the next, “Sorry”. One after another, day by day, I was told twenty rejection letters, each one with the same exact response.

“Dear Theodore Mendez,

Thank you for your interest in blank school.

After careful consideration of your application, I am sorry to inform you we are unable to offer you a seat in our next year’s class. This year’s pool was the largest and best in the recent years…”

It would go on and state various reasons as to why I or any other person had failed to reach their standards. This continued to be a trend for the following weeks, until a letter of admission finally came to me. It was from a university in Arizona that saw me as a potential student of theirs; I never sent them an application, however. When I looked them up, they were rank #119 in comparison to the other schools. The major I hoped for was nearly non-existent; they had a small, underfunded department that ranked one of the lowest in the nation.

I held hope that a university of my picking would come to the mail, proclaiming my excellence and offering an honorary seat for me. But none came.

It soon nearly ended the time for choosing my school, for many of my friends it was difficult choosing which Ivy League to go to, Princeton or Harvard, Yale or Brown. But when it came to me, choosing was not difficult; I was not going to enter college. No college other than the one from Arizona accepted me. Minnesota or Chicago had a million other better students to choose from. So I made my decision to escape the chains of college.

As many would of thought, my mother was not too pleased to hear of my escape from the chains of college. She did not like to call it that, instead she said “Pendejo, vas a ir al el Universidad.” She argued for me to go to college, even the local college would be fine. Instead I held firm and stated that I was going to not go to college and go find my riches in the land. Her heart, broken in two, she walked away believing that I was a failed man. I grabbed the money I saved, nearly eight hundred dollars, and went to find peace wherever I could find. I headed north.

End of March #15  

The bunny stew finished cooking by the time he finished his last few words. Theo drank the remaining broth, planning what to accomplish in the following weeks. What he first thought was to build a desk and chair to do his crafting and writing, he grew tired sitting in the corner of the cabin. He grabbed his shawl and axe, and left the cabin to cut down wood.

He looked around the woods for the right trees to cut. Not every tree could be cut by an average size axe, especially when they have a circumference fifteen times larger than his body. He needed to find a tree that he could hug properly. So he searched the woods, constantly hugging trees seeing if they were the right size to be cut. He finally found a tree that stood thirty feet in the air, and could be cut down. He began chopping the tree. It took him an hour until he heard the crackling of the wood as it fell down. Now it would take another two hours to cut the wood into three sections, each approximately ten feet apart. Finally once he had the tree cut into ten feet logs, he needed to cut them in half so he could carry them back to the cabin to be cut again to planks. He grabbed one of his pick and placed it in the middle of the tree. With the blunt side of his axe he striked the pick, lodging it within the tree, making sure he left sufficient space to strike it by the side. He did that two more times at each edge of the tree. Once he was finished with placing the picks in, he hammered at the center one, creating a bigger split within the log, until it split into two. He did this for the final two, each time taking thirty minutes.

An orange light stroke across the sky, then a purple hue soon took place. The sun was setting and Theo had just finished with the final log. He grabbed the first one and dragged it back to the cabin; luckily this took him only twenty minutes. He grabbed and dragged each log back, one at a time, taking six logs back to the cabin. He opened the door to the cabin and went to the bag that held the rabbit meat. He cooked up another bunny, but today he would write no more. He wanted to write once he had the table and chair finished. This would likely take another day to finish it all. Once Theo finished his stew, he fell onto his straw bed and slept soundly for another night.

He awoke later than usual, the sun had already started without him and he needed to catch up to the sprinting sun. He ate berries today, it was good to switch from bland rabbit to tart berries; it won’t be for another two months until the berries finally sweeten up.

Theo walked outside and ran into the woods, he needed to get to the snare first before any fox comes and snatches his daily dinner. Only two snares had caught rabbits, one caught a squirrel. He ventured back to the cabin and prepared the rabbits and squirrel for future eating. After, he grabbed his axe and his broken axe, bringing them inside to work on them. The axe that broke split into two the October past, leaving him with a ruined handle and a two metal heads. He fashioned one of the metal heads so he could create a carving chisel. He cut a slit into a wooden stub and placed the blunt metal edge within it. Then wrapped it around, fastening the blade into place, using the squirrels pelt. Once he was over he walked outside to the logs and began cutting chunks of wood out. He would use two slim whole pieces for the desk and four smaller chunks for the legs. Once he finished that he began slimming down the legs so that they didn’t look out of place.

Finishing all the pieces for the table took a considerable amount of time. What mattered to him would be hammering in all the pieces into place; if the wood split it would mean that much of this time had been wasted. He took out a packet of nails from beneath the straw bed, one of the important things he had brought with him when he left had been a packet of nails. However, he had forgotten to bring a hammer, an essential piece to hammering nails. But he did have his axe, the axe he had fashioned as both an axe and a hammer; nevertheless, on many occasions he had nearly crushed his fingers. He placed the two slim cut boards and attached the two together with two more boards, ensuring that it would not break when he placed anything too heavy.

After finishing the top board he hammered in the nails with his axe, connecting the four legs to the board. When Theo stood up the table it shifted to the right too quickly; he cut and added three more pieces of wood to the four legs, acting as a brace. He was finished with the table. He placed the table in his cabin, ensuring it fit through the door.

The sun was casting a shadow that stood directly below Theo; it was midday. He believed he could finish the chair by the end of the day.

The sky changed a myriad of colors and then it suddenly grew dark. Theo finished the chair, slightly of balanced but it could be solved by cutting down its height by a centimeter. He brought in the chair to finally see how the desk would fit with the table. He positioned it away from the hearth, in front of the window. The desk seemed to fit with the style of the house, wooden with a stone fireplace. It completed the natural beauty of his cabin.

Theo finished putting down the chair and got out one of his rabbits that he just caught recently. He placed it in a pan of water to turn it into rabbit stew, without vegetables. He grabbed the papers that were scattered across the corner of the cabin. Placing them on the table, he grabbed his pencil and continued where he left off.

March #16

I planned to escape the torments of college but I didn’t know a single way how. I told my mother I would leave the house in search for freedom north of here. But that was more in-the-moment type of believing. Yet, I guess it was true that I had originally planned to go north; Southern California had nothing to offer. It was filled with concrete prairies with some trees covertly covered behind the 9 by 10 yards of indentured servants. Northern California doesn’t have the sky-line towers that enclosed its people; it doesn’t have the electric poles that scarred the sky; it doesn’t have the smog that rolls in by rush hour. So I planned to head north.

The problem with heading north is that it’s nearly eight-hundred miles away from East Side. A trip like that would take eight days of walking, excluding the time for rest. Yet I still needed to head that perilous journey; I had to go and take what I wanted, that’s the only way of escaping college.

I grabbed the money I saved during my childhood years and counted them. It was a total of eight-hundred dollars and ninety-two cents, good enough. I grabbed my red hat and a single pair of clothes, placing them in the bag. I grabbed some nails, papers, pencils, and a badge that was given to me when I was smaller. I’d leave this dirt house once and for all, never planning to come back.

Yet, I wasn’t finish preparing for my journey to the land up north. I went to the local camping store to get what I needed. I scrambled through the aisles, looking for what I needed: an axe, canteen, better shoes, a 10-in-1 thing, and a knife�"just in case. I walked up the counter and placed everything in. $154 for the axe, $100 for the boots, $10 for 10-in-1 thing, and $195 for the knife. In all, the supplies costed $491.13 dollars. Leaving me 308 for food and whatever is needed. My adventure started the moment I walked out the door. I placed all my items in my bag, excluding the axe; it was too large to fit. Luckily the bag had to straps on the outside to place anything similar to an axe. I began my walk to the north.

The first day was tiring, carrying a twenty pound bag, while walking thirty miles, is terrible. I passed by many houses of all sorts of colors: garbanzo green, rustic red, and often weirdly white. Each one never unique, they have the same structure as the house next door, only one might have a brighter pink hue then theirs. It wasn’t until I reached the heart in the city, where houses�"few as they were�"would differentiate themselves by structure and color. The houses would strip the sky and block the light from reaching the people below. It was tiring walking that distance across the city.

On many occasions I’d be stared at by people walking beside me, carrying an axe is not that common in the city. Yet I endured the stares, I crossed the industrial strip that built cars and dismantled the junk, crashed cars. I passed by, watching people walk in and out of the grey buildings, wondering if they would ever escape this torment. I chose not to think what happened within those gray walls; I continued walking.

The sun began setting on the horizon; I had reached�"on what I assume�"thirty miles across. I only needed to reach ninety miles in order to create a reason to come back to the city. I looked around the area I was in for somewhere to sleep; I found a park in which I could sleep in. I searched for a spot that was comfortable to sleep on. I found a bush that looked as though someone else had slept in once. I slept uncomfortably that night.

When I woke up from that prickly slumber I was being yelled at from a person that resembled a buried man. He had been yelling at me for sleeping in his spot. This ‘had’ been his spot to sleep for the night; to him, I was a squatter. I told him sorry and ran from his “spot”. My body was sore from the thirty miles before; never had I walked thirty miles in a day. It was a first for me and my aching feet. I just continued, very constantly muttering how tired I was. I spotted a supermarket and entered, I needed to find some energy bars and something to drink. The cash register salesman stared at me as I walked around the store, looking for what I needed. When I walked up to the cash register I placed my things and walked out, feeling his eyes pierce the back of my head. I think he believed that I was stealing food from the store; he doubtlessly would later look in the security cameras to see if I had robbed him blind.

The rest of the day had been uneventful. I walked and walked until I could no more and slept on a park bench. For some days it consisted of primarily sleeping on park benches and walking thirty miles. My blisters, at one point, simple stopped hurting. Calluses grew in place and walking the distance stopped hurting after five days. I was about one hundred and fifty miles in by the fifth day.

End of March #16

Theo placed down his pencil; he wrote for too long. The rabbit was cooked too long, turning it into a texture similar to rubber. He forced his food down and ate it reluctantly; he slurped the remainder of the broth. Tired as he was, he needed to plan for the days to come. He needed to stop the leakage of the roof by adding more thatch and wood; begin planting his berry seeds that he collected over the year; and dig a canal from the river to somewhere else. If the rains of March and April filled the lake to the brim, he would have more problems than a leaky roof. Theo laid on the bed, covering himself with his shawl, falling into a deep slumber beneath the hole ridden roof.



PART 3

Theo awoke to the sound of running water. The rains of spring sprung earlier than he expected. He remembered his paper, jumping out of his bed to hide his papers from the tainting water. He grabbed them and placed them within the dry safety of his bag.

He put on his soggy clothes and ran out of his cabin looking for the leftover wood. He ran inside and began hammering at the ceiling, adding more pieces of wood to cover the holes. It only made matters worse and split streams into two. He then knew it would be futile, attempting to cover them with loose wood. He ran outside his cabin and into the woods. He searched for dry leaves to use as thatch over his house; he grabbed as much as he could and ran down to his cabin. He climbed the ledge of the cabin and threw that whenever he could. He did this until he felt that it was filled; now he needed to cover it with some layers of thin wood to ensure that it didn’t leak. It would take him three hours of chopping would until he could finally start layering them one on top of the other.

The rain let down for a while, allowing him to dry off and finish the rest of his roof. Once done he climbed down and entered the cabin to see the damage. Most of the water fell through the wooden floor, and sank away from the house. His straw bed was drenched in water, yet what mattered most to him was the bag of items he hid away. The bag turned out to be sheltered deep within the straw and away from the water. After hiding away the bag he turned his attention to the lake outside, he needed to create a canal that would lead water away from his cabin and deeper into the woods. When he began digging with his axe, it became apparent that it wouldn’t work well digging up dirt. Theo decided to dig with his hands. He fell on all fours and began to dig out what he would soon call, the Mendez Canal.

Building the roof on top of the house had been a much simpler task, making a hundred foot long canal that was two by two was even more difficult, or nearly impossible. By the time he had made it one foot long his hands were cut from all the dead sticks on the ground. He needed to find an easier way to dig out this canal. He walked back to the cabin, hands sore, and saw the remainder of his roofing. He fashioned one of the panels of the extra roofing to be a shovelhead and attached it to a pole, essentially creating a shovel. He went back and began to shovel.

The shovel did not necessarily work perfectly, but it saved Theo’s hands from being torn up from any stray rocks or sticks. By the time he made it ten feet, the pole snapped in two. Theo then ventured back to the cabin, fashioning another pole to fit in place, and continued his work on the canal. It became usual to have the shovel head breaking into two as it hit rocks, or the shovel breaking by forcing it into the ground. He constantly walked back and forth, replacing each piece after every ten or five feet of digging. But by the end of the day he had completed half the required length of the canal. Canal Mendez was near in completion.

While running to and fro from fixing the roof to building the canal, Theo forgot to eat. He scavenged for the snares and found that two had been likely broken off from a fox. The one that wasn’t, had a rabbit that was kept outside for too long, so he threw it away. He replaced the two snare and ventured back into the cabin. He would be eating berries for the day until tomorrow, hopefully with a rabbit that was barely killed. He also could not write for that moment, the table was soaked by the rains and would dry overnight; hopefully, if the roof stays ‘water tight’. Theo forced himself to lay on the soggy bed, covering himself with his dry shawl.

He awoke to the sound of thunder that morning. It echoed through the woods, rippling as it hit trees, burrowing itself deep within.Yet he still got out of his bed, put on his shoes, and ran outside. He got to his snares and found two perfectly dead rabbits in their place. He put them in his cloth bag and went back. Yet he ate berries to cook the bunnies for later in the day and tomorrow. Like usual, he prepared them by taking of their pelts and removing the edible meat. He salted that meat and placed it to dry on a wooden stick. Once done he’d continue his day. Today, he will continue his excavation and dig out the remainder of the canal to a divot one-hundred feet away. He began his digging and almost instantly hit into a rock, snapping the wooden shovel. Theo sighed and walked back to his cabin to make another shovel. At this point he simply made five other shovels, using up most of his string. He carried the shovels down to when he left off and began the backbreaking work of excavating.

Thunder violently roared; somehow angered by the people who ignored its screams. So it roared again. Flashes stroked the sky, warning the impending storm that would strike down an innocent life that day.

Theo continued working on the canal, he had only ten more feet until he would reach the crevice, when it began hail. He grabbed his two remaining shovels and ran inside, into the safety of the cabin. Today he wouldn’t be able to finish the canal, but he did add a few feet that would ensure the lake would not overflow onto the cabin.

Theo began to boil water and placed the rabbit meat gently into the boiling water. He placed the cover on and took out his papers from within the bag. The roof held its own against the hail, any water that did go through the wood panels would be caught by the thatching he placed. He placed the papers onto his desk and sat down, beginning his writing.

March #17

I had walked for ten days, only three hundred miles into a mile, give or take ten miles. Nevertheless, I was tired of walking, so for a day I sat down and ate an actual breakfast�"aside from energy bars and drinks. I spent twenty dollars of my remaining three hundred eating a delightful breakfast. After ten days, I felt as though I deserved a break from the venture to the woods, and so after my breakfast I explored the city of Soledad. A midpoint stop. Much of it was farmland spreading over acres of land between a large valley. As dry as the surrounding where, this land was an oasis. A river scarred the land and brought the small farming town life.

I wandered the land, meandering, trying to find something to amuse myself with. Neither a theater or mall were within reach of the town; instead they had three parks that I could sit and watch the clouds go by. So I went to Vosti park, recommended by one of the kind old ladies that sat at the Diner. I sat down on one of the benches and almost immediately dozed into a deep slumber. It was around two when I woke up, three children stared at me when I woke up, once they noticed I woke up they scampered away to play elsewhere. I sat up and began wandering the town again. During the time I wandered, I discovered that everyone knew each other. A small town of thirty thousand seemed better in comparison to a city of three hundred thousand. The town had an effect to the people, as if they were all under a spell of delight.

I somehow, however, ended up in the outskirts of town, near one of the grand farms. It fascinated me how someone could live on their own and even produce food for thousands of other people. I walked closer to the farm, somehow ending up at the gate that separated agriculture to the rest of the world. I stared, amazed, at the man sharpening the knife with the wet stone. He carved it beautifully, ensuring that it could cut through rope smoothly.

At one point while he was cutting, the man looked over at me. He stopped the wet stone and walked close, he yelled out questioningly, “What do you want kid? What are you doin’ around here?”

I simply stared at him, processing the words he said. I replied back, “Just wandering. Looking for a place to sleep the night. I stumbled across this farm and saw that you were sharpening your knives.”

“You really need a place to sleep the night? Got a room up in the house”, he yelled back at me.

Surprised by the sudden generosity, “Thank you, that would be great. I don’t know how to repay you.”

“You can start by helping me by grabbing that axe on your back, and cutting down a broken fence of mine”, he walked up to the gate and unlocked it with one of his hundreds of keys. The keys in his pocket jingled as he walked me toward the room I’d be staying for the night.

“Alright, drop off your stuff once we get there and grab your axe, we’ve gotta fix up that fence. Too many animals stopping on the crops.”

I placed all my items on the spare bed in the corner of the room and followed him with my axe in the hand. The start of my future might have begun here.

End of March #17

Theo put away his papers in the bag and placed it beneath the bed. This time, he sat there thinking of the past, the nostalgia that blinds a person into believing whatever his heart might desire. He sat up and walked toward the pot grabbing it, while covering his hand with a cloth. He poured the soup onto the wooden bowl and sipped it down. He let it rest on the table to cool.

The rain didn’t let down at all, he didn’t expect it to stop any time soon. He planned to sleep or sharpen his axe for the mean time, while it rained outside. He began sharpening his axe with one of the stones he had and every twenty minutes he’d check the sharpness of the axe by cutting the twigs that were on the ground. It was done sharpening once it cut through the twin by simply pressing onto it. With the axe like that he could clear cut a rock into two. He laid his axe down on the corner of the bed and drank up his cooled rabbit soup. Theo yawned and fell onto his bed.

He woke up, grabbed his shovels and went outside. The rain stopped for a while, which allowed him time to finish the canal. The shovel broke on impact, a rock was laid in sneak, behind a layer of dry mud. Theo pulled out the rock and shoveled with one of his remaining shovels. He finally finished the canal. He went to were the canal began and shoveled out the remaining dirt that stopped the water from entering the small passage. Water broke through and flowed towards the divot a hundred feet away. The divot only filled a fifth before the water stopped. It began to drizzle water.

Before it can rain any harder, Theo ran around, collecting the rabbits at each of his snares; he only caught one. Once he finished, he sprinted towards the cabin. It was hailing again. Reaching the door, he entered and prepared the rabbit for later. He ate some berries and took out his papers; he began to write.

March #18

I didn’t leave the farm that week, or the week after that. I found my calling. I’d wake up in the morning, help Scott with anything he needed. The first few days, I helped with fixing around: a broken fence here, and a wall that needed painting. Slowly he introduced me to new things, how to use a tractor or sharpen my axe. After a few months, he taught me to skin animals.

“It’s not often you skin animals kid. I’ma teach you so you’ll know how to skin a cow, without it never knowing it had one. Better to teach it to you with rabbits; they’re the easiest.”

“Gotcha, understand boss”

“Call me Pa kid. Faster and nicer than boss”

“Alright, Pa”

“So you start with the legs, slice it up at the back side of it’s legs. Slowly moving so to make sure it doesn’t get deeper than the skin.” Pa, cut the rabbit softly, letting the blade steer itself, making a perfect curved cut around its hind.

“Once you’ve done that pull it down to it’s tail, you can cut it off  it causes too much hassle,  but I prefer to snap it and squeeze it out. Makes the pelt whole. Keep on goin’ down till it gets to its little hands, then cut around its wrist.” He pulled off the skin over its hands like a surgeon taking off his gloves. I could only stare and listen to what he was teaching; never did I think this was going to be important out of the farm.

“Alright once you got its paws off, you can stop at the base of the head and cut of the head of the rabbit. Sounds pretty gruesome, but the feeling goes away after a few tries. That’s about all to it. Now I’ve got a rabbit for you to try.”

He handed me a rabbit and passed me his knife. I cut the edge of the rabbit’s legs and made a curved cut around its hind. It wasn’t perfect but I did it. I pulled the pelt back all the way to the legs, making a cut around its wrist.

“Alright, here if you want to try to squeeze it out, you gotta use some of that elbow grease. If it’s just too damn hard, you can cut through it.”

I squeezed its paw out of the sleeve and did it for the other hand. After that I pulled it to the base of the skull and cut the head off, letting the skin go from the rabbit.

“Now the rabbits safe to eat, but you gotta steer clear from the intestines and stomach, usually it’s just safe to eat the muscle. The head, just throw it out. Not much use can come from it. But for your first try, you did pretty well. Your natural at this, could be the best.”

That’s all he had to say to get me to try and be the best, “could be the best.” And I tried to be the best after that. I got so well that could skin a rabbit in seconds. Cows took a bit longer, but I was still very well at making pelts. To the point that I became the farm’s skinner boy, anytime they’d need a skin off of an animal, I’d skin it. I felt better than I had in years at the farm. I’d wake up, go eat some eggs and chicken. Then go to work on the farm or something else, like skinning. After a year at the farm, I was too ingrained in the farm to even think about leaving. It wasn’t until a mid autumn day that I questioned my stay here.

I was walking down the street, heading to the market to pick up some oil and salt for Pa. An old lady, sitting by one of the benches, looked over and stared at me for a few seconds. She called for me, yelling out “hey kid”. She caught my attention.

“Hey kid, aren’t you the one that I saw a year ago. You were that one boy wandering the place, asking for parks and places. Why you still here? Aren’t you that kid that told me you were headin’”

“Well yeah, I was”

“Then why you still here. I might be too old to see my kids, but I’m not too old too see when something’s holding you behind. Something’s chaining you up.”

“I got a job at the farm up north of here, it’s one of the ranches here in Soledad. I’m the skinner.”

“So you’re a skinner boy, you got stuck in the tar pits of Soledad. It is a gorgeous land, but it’s not your land. You deserve to go to the land up above, into the woods.”

“ I was gunna but..”

“But what, you’re too good to go up into the woods. Cause’ you’re a skinner boy, you’re better than the boy that came up Soledad last year. You’re the same boy with the same dreams. You gotta reach them dreams.”

“Alright, I’ll go up and tell my boss that i’ll be leaving”

“Goody, now help me off the bench. I’ma roast on the bench if I stay too long. And remember, your dream is up north. Alright?”

“I will, now I gotta go and pick up the stuff I was getting, Bye…”

“Gran, call me gran”

“Alright, bye Gran” I waved her goodbye and went to the market, looking for the oil and salt Pa left me to get. I was planning on how to let out the news to him. I finally decided to just tell him straight-out that I was leaving to head up state, towards my dream.

And I did such that. I walked to the farm and told Pa that I was leaving. He was stricken to hear that I was going up state. He sat me down and told me that I would do what I had to do. He told me to go up state and discover my dream. I went up stairs to get my axe and bag, then went down stairs. We handshaked and hugged. I’d miss this place, but I knew my adventure would not here. My adventure continue. I walked once the sun hit quarter till six, when the sun would bear the less heat on me. As I walked across the valley, the sunset laid between the valley, sneaking into a great slumber. My adventure began again.

End of March #17

Theo folded the papers. The rain ran endlessly throughout the day, crackling against the wooden panels of the roof. The sky crackled against the rain. A light shot through the sky, snapping its whip against the earth. In the distance, a snap rang through the forest, an audible thud could be heard. A tree had been stricken by the crackling whip of the sky. Yet rain continued its endless assault, but almost instantly there had been silence. It stopped.

Running outside, theo saw that the rain had finally stopped. The canal had grown considerably large, much of the dirt was eroded by the stream of water from the lake. As he followed the river, the crevice had grown larger, into a pond. It almost looked like a dream. The sun shot through the dense clouds, shining a beam onto the middle of the lake. He stared up into the sky in awe, the clouds dispersing by the piercing sun. He looked down and saw a rabbit frolicking and prancing across the forest floor.



PART 4

Summer sprinted early, bringing life back into the forest. It stopped raining and the berries were ripe to eat. The trees stood over the forest, taking in the sun, protecting the ground from the harsh rays. The rabbits and foxes roamed the forest floor freely, hunting and playing. Cubs could be seen, following their mother to the pond to drink water. Life flourished beneath the summer life.

Theo rested by the lake, feet dipped within the refreshing water. Looking over the lake, he threw a stone and skipped it across the top of the water, reaching over twenty feet. He pondered the his reason for being in the forest. What made the idea of being within a forest so serene? He grabbed his paper by his side and continued his ideas.

July #2

… maybe it was the slight summer breeze, blowing across the forest, that made living in the forest so much more enjoyable. Maybe the crisp sun was what I enjoyed the most. Regardless of what it is, I enjoy the forest that feeds my everlasting hunger. The life I live today reminds me of a philosopher that I learned during my time in History. I can’t particularly remember his name, but�"he too�"followed a life of tranquility, living under the summer sun. He dragged on his days in front of the lake, writing about the natural world that surrounds him. From the lake sitting him to his ideas of philosophy and life, he would write it all in his book. Again, I can’t, for my own sanity, think of the name of his book or his life. Yet, I do remember his ideas.

I too fled from the oppressing society that held us down like an anchor at a dock. I too fled from the destructive life standards that would, inevitably, lead to our own demise. As such, both he and I escaped the world to find safety with the nurturing woods. The woods that recycle life. The woods that protect the fox cubs from the harsh summer sun. For those reasons we weaved ourselves a life from the sources of the woods. Yet unlike him, I did not make my cabin out of the items of industrialization. I, myself, built the cabin out of the wood of trees, ensuring that the tree’s I cut had nothing living within. From what I can recall, the man built his cabin from the items bought at a store; also writing a receipt of what he purchased within his book. I however only used the axe I bought at the store. However, in some folklore, God gave humans tongs in order to make tongs. Essentially, the tool must appear before further creation of the tool. As I see it, it is entirely justified to use the tools of industry to create a world of tranquility.

Following that belief, I believe these ideas could be transferred onto a larger social scale. A greater focus on nature can deter our approaching self-demise. How so? The dust bowl of the midwest, the increasing amount of typhoons in the east, and the lack of rain, has shown to be a fault in our lack of focus of nature. The forest, since the last four years, has dropped less water since the day I arrived here. On a typical spring, it would rain for countless weeks. The last spring, it rained for two weeks; as strong as they were, they were nowhere as large as the times before. As such, I call for a larger emphasis on the natural world.

The forest itself has a cyclical system. A sapling will grow from beneath the forest floor, as it reaches it’s height, it falls for an unknown reason, lighting may be the culprit. It falls and becomes a home for various critters roaming, the grow larger and die. The carcass of the animal then becomes fertilizer for the next sapling that grows beneath the summer sun. It’s cyclical. Again, this could be adapted to the world outside. Much of what they create are destructive, during and after its creation. A move toward cyclical creation could likely improve the life of others and the forest of the world.

Yet regardless of anyone discovering the ideas of pro-environment; as original as it may be. No one power would divulge themselves in helping nature and the listed sorts. The greatest flaw of humanity is not themselves�"as many have claimed�"it is ignorance. Ignorance is the leading factor to every conflict known to man. Religion, is claimed to be the leading cause to death, but people's ignorance of other’s cultures are what truly kill the man. His struggle with nature is not due to the utter random qualities of earth, it is their ignorance of how drastic weather could be. Humans are one of the greatest beings on earth, we can destroy and build towers that scar the sky, and we can rejuvenate the world.However, Ignorance is not bliss, it is assured death.

When residing in nature, ignorance is a rarity. Within the forest, one needs to survive and be able to support their personal needs. Only then can they truly begin to be able to think, and with the lack of other people they are pushed to meander their minds, discovering ideas that they once chose to ignore. Forcing them to think about the ignorance they once had. This could likely work with groups of people too, being placed in an intimate space together nudges them to talk about everything, sparking new conversations and ideas.

Until they fully understand their ignorance, not one will come to the conclusion of nature.

A Greater Understanding of Human Nature

As we are described, humans are self-destructive creatures bent on the destruction of the entire world. As said by hundreds of philosophers; it’s in our nature; it’s how we are built. Arguably, that has been the nature of human beings for the last thirty thousand years we’ve roamed this land. We as humans fought nomadic tribe against nomadic tribe; we fought our competition until neither of us could live. As we moved on, entire nations fought each other, the Greeks against the Romans, the Romans against the Turks. Then at one point it was Allies against Axis, groups of nations against groups of nations; again until one group fell to the ground. And it goes on, it continues to repeat itself throughout history. Yet regardless of hundreds of philosophers believing that Humans are a living virus on earth, I believe we are one of the greatest creatures on earth.

As we focus on the destructive nature of humans, we do not focus on the bright side of humanity. As creatures we are very pessimistic creature. Our interest falls onto the dark spectrum in which we find death and curious morbidity. Rarely are we interested to find that a child had been birthed into this world, rather, we are interested in someone's passing. The birth of a king insights slight happiness to the people, but the death of one is what everyone will end up remembering. It is great that we are morbid creatures, it helps us understand the terrible thought and avoid death falling upon to us.

However, as much as it may be. If we were to focus on the bright side of our thoughts and intentions. We could find that we are a surprisingly gentle animal.

End of July#2

Theo took his feet out of the lake and dried them off with his shawl. He walked back into his cabin. The sun was setting behind the tree line. He prepared his rabbit stew and  added in some of the berries he had collected in the day; today would be an actual stew. He put the meat in and poured some of the berries into the stew, using the rest for flavoring in his water. Theo grabbed his axe and began sharpening it with a rock, tomorrow he was going to build a bed to sleep on. For the last five years he had been sleeping on a pile of straw he collected. With the pelts he had collected he could create a better bed that would not stick straw into his back when he moved. The stew had finished, he poured his meat and broth into the bowl.

The sun scurried out over the horizon. Theo prepared himself and picked up his axe. Unlike the previous times, the tree that he was searching for would be twice the size of the usual trees he cuts down. He needed to grab more wood for the fireplace. He, again, searched the forest for the tree by hugging them, checking their wide span. He found a tree that was about twice the size and began cutting at it. Three hours in: he was a quarter through the log, his stamina fading away. He sat down next to the tree, staring deep into the depths of the forest. The lights on the ground scattered around, as if playing with each other. The leaves above shook with every passing wind. Theo stood up and continued his endless attack on the tree.

With each passing stroke, the tree was one chop closer to falling over. Until, at last, the tree fell over with a loud crack. By the time the tree had fallen, it was already dark. If he stayed too long he’d freeze to death. It might have been summer but the nights still froze over. When he reached the cabin he prepared another stew and fell asleep.

He woke up, ate some berries and went out to continue chopping the tree he cut yesterday. He arrived at the log and began planning on how to cut the large log. He’d have to cut it into smaller logs and then cut those into quarters before he could bring them back to the cabin. He began cutting the log into two.

It would take Theo four days until he could finally finish cutting the tree into 16 ten foot logs. On the fifth day Theo began carrying all the pieces to the front of his cabin to begin turning them into pieces he could work with.

So he began working on the bed. slowly carving each piece of wood into their appropriate sizes. He didn’t want a bed that was too big, he prefered to have a bed the size of his normal cott. He brought the pieces inside and began hammering in each nail, putting them place. At the end of the day he finished the frame of the bed. Tomorrow he’d work on sewing together the pelts to make a sheet to sleep on. He prepared his soup and finished it, falling asleep soon after.

Theo woke up from his slumber, he laid in his bed, thinking of what he had planned for the day. He decided to skip the day of sewing, instead he’d sit by the lake and continue his thoughts. Working four days on cutting a massive tree down was tiring. Theo walked grabbed his papers, ate some berries, and walked out the door. He sat down and began writing immediately.

July#3

We are companionate. Humans need a sense of belonging in this world. As I remember, one of the basic needs that humans have is a sense of belonging. For that reason we stay with groups that value our opinion and give us a sense of belonging. Cultures and tribes are created as a result.However, when that sense of belonging is removed from us we begin to crave for it. For many people, animals can become a companion that gives the person a reason to continue. I propose that for a person to truly at peace, he must suppress that feeling of belonging and care for themselves. Narcissism is not this; it would be an infatuation of one’s self, caring is aside from wanting.

As socrates said, know thyself. Deep within nature anyone could truly begin to understand themselves. The blissful silence helps organize thoughts rather than confuse them, unlike a city atmosphere. The fact that one must go and manually catch food yourself gives one a sense of belonging within nature. The cyclical structure of nature and the forest is one that will create a sense of control to the person. Overall, it feeds the first stage of needs without any difficulties.

The grandiose scale of nature could never be fully described in words. Only perspectives of nature could be told. Its expansion reaches the nooks of our society, yet no one has truly noticed it. The idea that the weeds growing between the pavement are part of miles and miles of root connections, spreading beneath our feet. It is a hidden cog within our society. But humans will never be able to understand the magnificence that surrounds them. Only time will tell.

A Continuation of Humanity

Moving on to another topic that became apparent to me growing up and when I ventured into civilization. A sharp increase in poverty and tension between the homeless beggars caught my eye. From a young perspective, going to any public facility rarely had any beggars near there. After five years and a depression, the amount of beggars increased ten-fold. On the corner street sane or deranged vagrant would either ask for change to buy his next pack of cigarettes or would be yelling at the wall. Often enough it was a man yelling at the wall asking for a raise. The size kept growing and growing, until at one point. The financial plaza was called “The Shanty House” for the amount of huts that were made.

It became apparent to me that there were no policies or reforms being set into place to improve conditions for people in poverty. Instead it became a greater conflict of dehumanization; because of their larger gathering, they were being grouped together and made it easier for others to see them as uncivilized members of society. I too felt this conflict of being seen as a savage rather than a member of humanity. When I traversed the streets of the town west of here, I was constantly being stared by others. Anytime I entered stores, a sales member would follow me and check whether I was there to rob the store or pee on the floor. Not only is there a lack of government help, but a growing hate for their particular type.

Aside from the sane homeless beggars, the ones who are not sane are often people with dementia or schizophrenia. Each one yelling at one another or talking to the hallucinations that appear before them. It also comes to show the lack of care for those with mind altering diseases. Most are probably family members who’ve escaped and forgot their way back or did not want to burden their family. There might be aid for them in the form of food three times a day, but that only worsens the situation by creating dependency on others.

Yet what could possibly be done to repair the damages of thousands without spending millions.

End of July#3

Theo sat up from the lake and walked back into the comfort of his cabin. With the rest of the day he spent it cutting and sewing together the pieces of pelts together. He finished making the top layer of the bed. Theo sharpened his axe, with each stroke the axe grew sharper. For the rest of the night he’d sharpen his axe with his rock, constantly. Every once in awhile he would slide a stick across. Only when his axe can cut through the stick like butter, can he stop sharpening it.

Some time in the process of the cutting he fell asleep. When he awoke, the axe was sharp enough to cut through iron. He prepared himself breakfast and sewed the remainder of the furs together, making the mattress. The straw that he has wasn’t as nice as it had been before, years of rain and sleep had turned it moldishly dark. Theo went outside with his empty bag and wandered the forest, in search for a batch of dry grass or twigs. While searching the forest with his axe he found a sign that had escaped his sight for years. A sign that claimed to have said “No trespassing”. With his axe he cut it down swiftly and hid the sign from sight, nature was not a place that should be privately owned.

He hurried the search and found a great batch of straw, the problem was that he would have to make a dozen trips back to the cabin to collect it all. He cut most of it down with his axe and shoved as much as he could into the bag. He walked back to the cabin and placed it beside the mattress skin. He’d do this nine times before he had enough to stuff the mattress of fur. With the straw he mixed in some sticks and began chopping it all into a finer sizes, until it was the size of a grain. He placed the filling within the mattress and sewed up the end of the bed. Finishing all the required pieces. Theo placed the frame into place and then put the mattress on top. Finished with the bed, Theo jumped onto the bed and laid there for the remainder of the day. He slept better than all the days before.

When Theo woke up, the sun was not over the ridge yet. Darkness loomed. Theo lit the fire place and began to write.

July#4

I remember the day I arrived at the lake. After three days of walking in the forest, I had been stricken by thirst. I heard running water and I ran towards it. I reached a small stream and drank from it, the water was murky but any water is fine when dieing of thirst. I followed the stream down into the lake. The beauty of the lake was mystifying to say the least. Almost immediately I chose to live in front of the lake. I chose a spot that had less trees nearby. The next day I cut down every tree that was around there, only leaving a few that would be just for attractiveness. With the trees that I had cut down, I cut them into halves to make the flooring of the cabin I was to built. The tricky part of building the cabin was making a fireplace that wasn’t flammable like the rest of the house.

I gathered rocks to the cabin and placed them in a nice stack on the side. The problem with making a chimney is that I need cement to bind the rocks together. I looked everywhere for clay of some sorts. I found that the lake had a great deal of clay. I sacrificed a pair of jeans I had to carry over the wet clay to the area. I mixed in some grass and some water and made some cement. I placed the rocks in a square and placed the cement down on top, then placing another layer of rocks down. I’d do this every day once a day. If I hurried the process the rocks would fall over and ruin the structure of the chimney. While doing that I would move the logs in place, that would be an even harder process, because I’d have to cut the pieces first then pick them up and place them onto each other. And one man placing three hundred pound logs is a very difficult task. I would hammer in a metal rod in the middle and then place the log on top that nail and hammer it in for both sides. It would take months until both were finally finished.

With the remaining wood I used it for firewood and snares for food. I found that scattering them in easily recognizable areas could prevent myself from stepping and having a half foot spike striking my leg. It would paralyze my leg but kill a rabbit or fox. Yet through time I found that foxes easily avoided the snare and birds would just end up a mess. Rabbits were the constant victim of the snares, and soon the only victims. Birds and foxes knew where the snares were, but Rabbits would prance into them.

Farming was on his mind, he planned to farm the land that was behind him. But it was already to late into the summer and the seeds would die before they even sprout. If they did grow, the winter would simply freeze them over and I’d be left with frozen saplings. If I had began planting them in the spring they’d be fine, but I forgot to plant the seeds. If I plant them inside the cabin that would mean moving everything so that the seeds were in front of the window. But the effort and outcome wouldn't be the same. It would take years for the bushes to fully mature and have a plentiful amount of berries. I’d gain nothing out of it, other than a sore back.

End of July#4

The sun peaked over the mountains, shedding its morning light onto the lake. The lake dazzled in response to the sun as if greeting it. Theo needed another project to do to keep his mind busy. He grabbed his axe and began dragging in the dirt behind the house. With a wooden shovel he began digging a path for some of the water to lead to the dirt in the back. He continued to plow the dirt in the back with his axe, sprinkling seeds as he passed through. It was a last, futile effort to grow any sapling so he can nurture them within the cabin during winter and replant them later in spring.

Once he finished he needed to use some of the wood that he had left over to build a perimeter around the spot. Rabbits would come by and chew on the saplings if he left them without a fence. He cut the wood into smaller pieces and put them in a pile, sharpening one side of the plank to stake in the ground. When he finished, he began hammering the stakes into the ground only leaving room for a door and for the water to flow in. The door would be easy, it would be five planks hammered together by two other slabs; and the hinges would be rope. He tied the door to the fence and added a knot so it would stay shut. After finishing the garden he went inside for the day. The rabbit he found early in the day was less than perfect but it was food nonetheless. He finished his dinner and ended his day.



PART 5

The Autumn aura aerated throughout the forest, changing the shades of green to a halloween orange. The trees that scared the sky never changed color, they’d stay green until the day they fall down. Theo opened the door and came outside to his garden behind the cabin. Sprouts of green saplings grew from the divots. It wouldn’t snow until the two months, but he began his foraging early. There is no problem with foraging earlier than usual. Theo checked the saplings for any problem and dropped the leftovers from the night before, it worked as fertilizer.

Theo sat by the lake and ate the late summer berries. He wrote in his journal.

October#18

I have to go back in town, the salt that I got from the market wasn’t enough to last two years. It lasted for only one and a half; recently I had to let five pounds of meat go to waste. I need to leave this afternoon and get back in two days. I can’t let my beautiful seedlings die from leaves falling onto them. I need to prepare my trip by bringing my axe and some berries to eat on the way. My bag will stay, If it rips on the way that would mean I’d have to go all the way there and back carrying my belongings. Not much else to say.

My seedlings have been doing great for the last few months. I was originally worried that they would dry by the time it became winter, and if they didn’t die in the fall they’d die by the frost. But now they’re large enough to be moved inside the cabin for the winter. That’s great.

End of October #18

Theo prepare his axe and berries, placing them in a pelt he had made time before. The only thing he needed to do now was to prepare his meal before he left toward the town. He poured water into the metal pot he had and let it boil over the water. Once it began boiling he placed the meat in and placed the pot higher in the fireplace. The best stew is cooked at a low boil for a longer time. Theo sat by the table, thinking of the way back: which was the best way to go? He was also wondering whether or not he’d buy new boots. The ones he has had for the last five years deteriorated to scraps of cloth.

The stew finished; he poured it into the bowl and ate the meat, leaving the broth in the bowl. He swirled it around the bowl, staring blankly into the it. Once the broth cooled he drank it up and placed the bowl down. He grabbed his bag and axe and adjusted it to his back. He closed the door and walked into the forest.

Any lights like last time had disappeared, he felt as if they were they fault of some wrong berries that had mind altering chemicals. As he walked down, he made it to one of the ridges of the mountain. He hiked down carefully, making sure not to cause any rocks to loosen. A wrong move would mean that the seedlings would surely perish without him. If he climbed down that would remove five hours from the walk down.  He stepped on a rock that protruded out of the side of the valley wall, it broke from beneath him and he fell down the side.

A branch that was stuck in the mountain caught him, luckily. He carried himself up the branch and grabbed onto a stable ledge. He sat down, catching his breath. “Almost”, he cursed morosely. He continued his climb down without any problems. Theo grabbed onto the last rock not letting go, and held fastly onto it. He let go and sat there for a while, wondering whether to go on or return back. He needed the salt, so he ventured on through the night. He arrived at daybreak, tired and sore from the walk. He sat by the market and fell asleep almost instantly.

Theo was surprised to awoken by a police officer poking at him with a baton.

“Yeah, he’s alive. Probably passed out from drinking too much the night before”, said the policeman.

“I’ve seen this man before. Last year he came here and sat at the same spot. He scares business away. Arrest him.”, responded the Market Manager.

“Alright, we’ll take him back to the station with us, he’ll have a nice day here.”

Theo could only scrape out a noise. He was too tired to talk, and a year of not talking shrinked his voice. The police officers talked to the manager a bit longer they grabbed Theo by the side and carried him into the police car, driving to the town over with the police station. He was promptly put into the cage and left to rot. It wasn’t until he gained his strength that they noticed him banging at the cages door.

“Get me out of here”, Theo croaked. One of the police officers came through the door.

“Oh you’re up, you got to give us your information. You were trespassing on the man’s property.”

“You know as much as I do that’s bull. I was sitting there waiting for the man to come and open the door. I wanted to buy some salt. Nothing more. I have to get to tending the seedlings.”

“Seedlings? Well, he claims that you have done this before, and threatened him last year too”

“I didn’. Are you talking about my axe? It was on my back. I li-ork up in the mountains. I needed some salt for the food there. Have you ever tried boiled meat. It tastes terrible. Last year I came for the same reason. He’s the closest around here.”

“Alright, Alright. It was a misunderstanding. Well we still need your information, at least a name and address.”

“Alright, my names Theo Mendez and I don’t have an address. I live with the mill up in the mountains. No street, no name for it”

“A mill, up in the mountains. Ne’er heard of it. What’s its name again?”

“ Oh it’s a small one. Not one of the ones that sell for the state. It’s called Jefferson’s Logs Inc.”

“Alright. Everything checks out. You’re free to go. Sorry about that.”

“Hey, you know where the local markets at? I couldn’t get the salt at the store, you know.”

“Oh, just walk out the station and go straight for two lights and take a left. Should be the on your on your right. Hey, and here’s your axe and bag. Go take care of your ‘seedlings’”, he handed theo his bag with berries inside and his sharpened axe.

“Alright thanks, have a nice day.”

Theo walked out the door of the station and headed to the store the policeman told him about. Similar to the other stores. They stared at him, following behind him as he wandered the aisles as he looked for salt. He found a five pound bag of salt and brought it to the register. The girl behind the counter shyed her eyes away from Theo, never speaking a word to him. He grabbed his sack of salt and walked out of the market. He needed to get back to the other town and return to his seedlings, any longer and they might die from being crushed by leaves.

The sky darkened over Theo as he walked to the next town over. He sat down for a few minutes and ate some berries. He almost immediately stood up and began his adventure back into the forest. As he was walking he saw the edge of the forest and sprinted toward it. The forest had been his home for the last seven years.

As he walked within the forest he saw a glimpse of light that scattered across the forest floor. They were the lights from before, travelling the ground at breakneck speed. He continued on as if he didn’t notice. When they began moving closer, he walked faster�"moving sporadically behind trees and through bushes. These beings of light only followed, rarely going anywhere near him. More and more appeared around him, splotches of light against the dirt. He hid in a shaded area and took out some papers he brought with him.

October #19

They followed me back here, from the dirt house, to the barns, and finally back to the forest. An attempt at escape was futile. Only venturing through the night would help me escape from their surrounding numbers. I will stay here until night time, when the light sleeps and darkness spreads through the night. As I look outside, they surround me, more and more continue to come out of their nooks. They haunt me in my dreams, running rampant through the depths of my mind. Yet who could control my mind other than I.

Maybe the world was created in six days, that would explain the imperfection that travels through the blood of life. The seventh could have been the last day he was missing, the day of polishing the stones of life. But maybe he found it too dubious to fix the problems, what was the point of perfection. Happiness comes from the fact that we were at a low for the while. A perfect man would always be happy, as said by many people. Yet a man that is always happy sets a bar of average, and average is never truly happy. Assuming that bliss is the basis of a perfect world then obstacles would not exist.

Obstacles cause anger and anxiety to every person, so in regards of happiness obstacles would not be smart to place in the world of happiness. Without obstacles failure would never exist, and in the same sense no one would win. Competition exist in the soul purpose to measure how much a person fails or succeeds in an obstacle in comparison with others. And as a result is ruled out of the picture. If perfection has no sense of failure, winning, competition, sadness, or imperfection. Then why do we strive for perfection.

Even in the eyes of perfectionist, their ideas or strayed and flawed by their own prejudices. Imperfection seems to be what the world runs on, what humanity stands for. The world around me morphs constantly, chaos is ensue in my mind and in the space that surrounds me. My mind falls victim of perfection whenever I see the summer sun gleaming over the marble lake. Yet why do we seek perfection through the glasses of imperfection if no matter what we find is imperfect. I believe that no one truly believes that the world lacks perfection. I believe we hope to find the only perfect equation as to why the world runs as it does, to find an answer to chaos. As we, as a humanity, search for that perfect equation, what do we hope to find from that answer? To find out why Amelia Earhart disappeared while her popularity was at its cap? To find the answer to all the missing people on earth? And if we do find out why Amelia disappeared and where all the people have gone to, what will we do with that information? Hide it beneath the cupboards of a house?

As we approach that answer, I believe we will attempt to find a lie within the depths of truth; in an attempt to continue that search for perfection. Perfection, in our eyes will never be seen as truth within our own complexes.

As I look outside, the lights have nearly all faded almost night. I can attempt my escape then and find my seedlings. If only I had covered them for the three days, then I wouldn’t have to worry so much about them. If only they were inside the cabin, safe from the harshness of the outside world. Then I could end this nonsense and climb the side of the valley. But only a wall of wood protects them.

Could it be that the light had fully fallen. My attempt at escape will be now.

End of October #19

Theo sprinted as fast as he could away from the predicament he was in. He sprinted for a few minutes before stopping for a breath. He looked back to where he was and did not see any light around him, only the crescent moon that moved above him, brightening the forest slightly. He walked along the forest and saw the town in the distance behind him. The twinkling lights of a busy Saturday afternoon. He meandered the forest for a moment, lost of what he was doing at the time. As if time had stopped, he looked at everything around him with great detail. The bark of the trees resembled rabbits meat, easy to pull apart and very common to find in the forest. He remembered what he had been doing and continued his adventure to cross the forest and reach the cabin. Theo walked by the valley that he had nearly fell from, looking up towards the tree branch that snagged on his clothes. The lights returned and he scurried below a fallen tree. He sat down and continued his writing in his papers.

October #20

The lights returned stronger than ever, as the time of day stretches they shrink. I will hide beneath the fallen tree in an attempt to survive the onslaught of lights. Only the shade protects me. Why do they haunt me? For what have I done to anger nature for it to send its allies against me. Was it my trespassing onto industrialization that angered thee. I care for your saplings and seedlings as if they were my own flesh and blood. Was it my lack of care that brought these creatures to my knees, or was it just my luck that ensured my demise.

As it is so, some fade away slowly but return once their energy comes back. It only makes me wonder whether they were similar to people in the real world. They hunt down those who are different and wait for them to surrender on their own account, The mad surrounded then would conform to their culture and “sublime” to a higher state. Would it be wrong to do so if their struggles simply ended once they conformed? I can’t say I enjoy it, the lights that torment my mind are similar to the majorities that torment the minorities in the real life. True question would be: Would anyone care? A minority that falls under the oppression is only often brought out by a traitorous hand of the majority. They themselves, sick from being part of the majority, revolt from the cycles that suppress the weak. If the majority felt that they were right and just in their intentions, could they forever shut off any hope of the minority escaping.

The lights continue to mock me as I stare at them, they shrink and grow, only laughing at my weakness. I will laugh at them when I reach my cabin and seedlings. I will laugh at their failure and perfection. Once they understand that they world they dwell in isn’t perfect, I’ll laugh at them while they try to understand failure. Perfection and beauty surround them with an aura of smug pretentiousness that only appears when someone feels that they are truly right. I will mock them and let them watch me from the distance. The beings of pure light will understand failure, they will understand the world of humanity. Once then, and only then, will they finally let go their attempts to capture me. My eight years of running will draw close to an end. My war will finally be over.

End of October #20

Theo saw the beings of light leave slowly as the sun came down. Closer and closer to the ground, further and further they disappeared into the horizon. Theo had reached the halfway mark into the forest and was near the end of his long voyage. He walked and walked the night. Halfway through the night, however, he heard voices coming from further along the forest. Each whispering within his ears, as if trying to tell him something.

“Aren’t we too far into the forest. The closest resting spot is half a day's walk away.”

“Nah, there’s a lot of berries round here for food, and a streams nearby for water. If anything we could probably live here in the forest,”

“Well I know that, the problem is that I heard that there’s mountain lions up here.”

“Mountain lions? To close to the town, they’re probably further in. Were safe as long we're a good distance away”

Theo stood crouched within some bushes, sneaking in on the conversation the two were having. He walked closer to the pair and stood hidden.

“Well there’s also that myth that a hiker went up in the woods eight years ago and went missing. No body was found and they ended the search when it got to close to winter. I think they declared him dead.”

“It’s probably one of those tales they make up so that people do go too far in.”

“Yeah but this one’s real, I checked one of the guys up at the town. He says every year he wanders the town dragging his axe”

“Do you hear what you’re saying. All lies, you know they just want more attraction for their town. No one ever goes there.”

“Oh and did your hear about that fire up here, they said it spread pretty deep in the forest. They stopped it halfway through, a lake stopped it halfway up.”

Theo listened intently and crawled carefully, attempting to avoid any contact with the two guys. As he passed by pair he heard a bit more conversation before it slowly melted into the distance.

“I know, at least no one was hurt, that’s great. Back to the missing hiker. How do you explain the broken signs and marks on the trees. Don’t you think they’re too human to be an animal”

“Some bears get too close to the town. They probably mark up the tree sometimes. And Jack, it’s the damn woods. Do you really think they care… for.. the.. signs...”

The words stopped echoing through the trees of the forest. Only the noise of silence moved through the air. Theo kept walking until he collapsed on the forest floor from pure exhaustion. He had been a few minutes away from reaching the cabin.

When he awoke from the brightness of the sun, he found that the beings of light began appearing from their hidden crevices. He ran towards a spot covered over by the leaves of a tree. He sat there looking at his bag. Only a few berries remained from the original bag worth. Theo never expected for the trip to take longer than four days. It was originally supposed to be a two and a half day trip from the cabin to the town nearby.

Theo kept his hope for the seedlings, he could save a few seedlings if they could last a day more beneath the autumn leaves. Only his will to move on gave him energy, all of it was deprived from the walk. He continued his slow trudging walk towards the cabin. However, as he was walking along the woods, he noticed the lights appearing again. Dawn was appearing over the mountain tops. The beings of light began to appear from nowhere, chasing him once again. He began picking pace and reached the shade before they could touch him.

Backed against a corner was a shell of a man, crumpled by the pressures of life. Black listed by society and discarded from his own mind. In the beginning the world crushed Theo and Theo only sprung back harder against it. But the constant springing only led to an even more bent man, a man with no past behind him nor a future ahead of him. He was a scraggly man, with clothes that resembled a corpse. His eyes were brown and soulless, every drop of light and hope dropped from his eyes. His skin, darkened by the harsh sun, looked like leather. His hair was frayed, dark and, long. Once a young youthful man fell into the world hopeful, but it spit him out destroyed and unstable.

Theo planned for a sprint towards the cabin, it was only a few minutes. He could then finally laugh and boast at the beings; he could finally finish growing the seedlings; he could make the cabin even bigger than before. He looked out towards the beings of light and saw them growing in numbers. If he sprinted now then he could surely pass them without any of them noticing his escape. He placed his shawl over his head and ran out of the shade sprinting to his cabin. The beings of light noticed and grew in numbers around him. They attacked his frail skin, but he continued on and ran. He could see the glimmering light of the lake and tripped seconds before reaching it. He saw them behind the tree line, staring at him. He laughed loudly, his adventure was finally over. He had won the battle against life.

He stood up and walked toward his cabin. Opening the black door, he stood there. Looking at the dark wood. He sat there looking towards what remained. The chimney stood tall, the roofing caved in on the sides, but everything else was fine to Theo. As he looked through his own eyes, he simply saw the cabin. He didn’t notice the caved in roof or the charred desk or table. All he could see was the cabin that once protected him.

He had lost the war.