The Hiker by SeanMartin
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Description
He pulled his truck into the lot and got out, bathing himself in the warm sunshine: it was a perfect day for a hike. Choosing a trail at random, he started off into the woods.
The trees were still thin enough that he could see other hikers on other trails; from time to time, he'd smile and wave. Sometimes they'd wave back. Sometimes they'd just nod. He considered shifting over to one of the other trails, but that meant going through the woods, and he just didnt want to bother. He could always back up, he told himself.
A few clouds rolled in, but, he decided, nothing too serious. They didnt look like rain, just enough to occasionally block the still-warm sunshine. He shifted his backpack and hiked on.
The trail now moved upwards -- not too steep, nothing he couldnt handle. But the woods were thickening: he could no longer see the other trails, and his own now seemed more and more rocky. Overhead, the clouds had thickened, and a grey fog obscured his view ahead. He could still see the path, sure, but he couldnt see as far. He turned around -- the path behind was also lost in grey mist. Not to worry, he told himself, I can always go back if I need to.
But he also realized he was starting to get slightly winded. How strange, he thought: I should be able to handle this without even breaking a sweat. No sooner had he told himself that, that there was a sudden lurch, a sudden shift. He was thrown to the ground, and when he turned around to look back...
-- the trail was gone. Instead of a woods, there was a gigantic black hole. He didnt dare go out to the edge. It was like an entire quarter-mile section simply... *disappeared* and fell into the earth. Distantly, through the ever-thickening mist, he could vaguely see the path back, on the far side of the hole. But now he knew he had no choice. He had to continue on.
The trail now seemed to be winding its way up into a mountain pass: the walls along side werent that high -- he could always climb them if he wanted. Still, now the sun was gone, and there was a slight chill in the air. He stopped and took a book of matches from his backpack. He might need to make a fire for the night.
He hadnt gone another fifty yards when, again with a mighty roar, the earth behind him simply vanished, and he realized too late that it'd taken his backpack with it. There has to be a way out, he thought with only a slight tinge of anxiety. The trail has to go *somewhere*.
But somehow, with his knowing it, the walls alongside now were too high for him to climb, even as they closed in narrower and narrower. Now they were so close that his shoulders occasionally brushed the sides. Now the trail itself was littered with treacherous rocks that seemed to spring up from nowhere. And now his own body seemed to be failing him even more, as though it took so much more energy just to put one foot in front of the other.
Then... the trail ended. He looked up at the high walls encircling him. The sun was gone: it was well past sunset, almost night. The chill in the air was almost unbearable. He felt in his pockets and found his small book of matches. Three were left. He lit one and tried to use the glow to find something, anything, that could burn. But there were only rocks and dirt.
He lit the second, but before it could burst into flame, the ground shook again and another huge section of the trail behind simply winked out of existence, leaving nothing but a void.
He sat on the ground and looked up: the starless sky and the black walls of rock were indistinguishable. He was sitting in the middle of nothing. He lit the final match and watched its brief flame sputter and flare, then disappear in a few wisps of thin, airy smoke.
Comments (2)
crender Online Now!
Outstanding!
PandaB5
Interesting story!