3.)
It has been a few hours since he spoke with Kelly, now he rested by the stream. He was sprawled out on the soft grass starring at the tops of the trees. Tom sat up and rubbed his legs. He picked up his pack and started to walk again. He set camp where he left the stream and slept under the stairs.
He did not dream that night, but still woke sold and shaking. He washed himself and got ready to leave. He started to walk home. When mid-day came he rested and ate, then walked again. Just as the sun started to set, Tom made his way to the lodge.
He sang his song to the evening and finished the smoked meat. After starting a fire, he fell asleep; finally resting his sore legs. The next morning he woke and went to the river near his lodge. He caught some trout for breakfast and sang the song to the new day. Then he went to wash himself.
As Tom scooped up some water he saw his reflection. "The scars are very becoming…" her voice echoed in the back of his mind. He splashed the water and washed himself with closed eyes. Why should he let what that woman said get to him like this?
He dried off in the sun as he ate. He dressed himself and sat cross-legged out in the front of his lodge. Tom started on a new shirt. After poking his finger a few times, his skill-full hands started to sew faster and faster at the tan material. In only a few hours he was done and started to work on a simple sarong. When he finished that he ate again and rested. As the sun started to set he sang the song of the evening again, just letting the words fall out in their own free will, too tired to care anymore.
His eyelids closed as his body feel limp into sleep. Blackness surrounded him as coldness encaged him. A mist appeared and coated the nothingness around Tom. Out of the mist walked a woman, dressed in all white and long, flowing black hair waving to her gentle steps. A look of scorn masked the woman's face as she embraced Tom. With a burst, everything disappeared. Including the woman, and gave way to a world of red.
Tom was standing in a river of blood. Dead horses floated past him with the current. People, calling out and cheering at him, surrounded the bank of the river. In front of everyone stood a crying Kelly- soundlessly yelling and pointing at something in the river. Tom turned around and saw a baby strangling in the water. He picked up the baby until it dissolved in hid hands.
Tom woke, sweating and breathing quickly. He disrobed himself and ran to the river. A short wash would do him good. The cold water on his skin calmed him greatly. As he sat in the sun to and dried off he pondered about the recent dreams he's been having. All with a woman, one with Kelly… No! He wouldn't think about this all day, things had to be done.
He went back to his lodge and dressed himself. Tom grabbed his rifle and a small sack of bullets; he was running out of meat. In the shadows of brush and trees alike he stalked the forest, his quick eyes searching for a deer. And there she was, a young doe grazing in the shade of the lush trees. As Tom loaded his rifle he sang the deer song and sang, the words coming of their own accord. The loud bang of the rifle rang through out his ears and a flash of blood flew through the air. He got the deer.
It has been a few hours since he spoke with Kelly, now he rested by the stream. He was sprawled out on the soft grass starring at the tops of the trees. Tom sat up and rubbed his legs. He picked up his pack and started to walk again. He set camp where he left the stream and slept under the stairs.
He did not dream that night, but still woke sold and shaking. He washed himself and got ready to leave. He started to walk home. When mid-day came he rested and ate, then walked again. Just as the sun started to set, Tom made his way to the lodge.
He sang his song to the evening and finished the smoked meat. After starting a fire, he fell asleep; finally resting his sore legs. The next morning he woke and went to the river near his lodge. He caught some trout for breakfast and sang the song to the new day. Then he went to wash himself.
As Tom scooped up some water he saw his reflection. "The scars are very becoming…" her voice echoed in the back of his mind. He splashed the water and washed himself with closed eyes. Why should he let what that woman said get to him like this?
He dried off in the sun as he ate. He dressed himself and sat cross-legged out in the front of his lodge. Tom started on a new shirt. After poking his finger a few times, his skill-full hands started to sew faster and faster at the tan material. In only a few hours he was done and started to work on a simple sarong. When he finished that he ate again and rested. As the sun started to set he sang the song of the evening again, just letting the words fall out in their own free will, too tired to care anymore.
His eyelids closed as his body feel limp into sleep. Blackness surrounded him as coldness encaged him. A mist appeared and coated the nothingness around Tom. Out of the mist walked a woman, dressed in all white and long, flowing black hair waving to her gentle steps. A look of scorn masked the woman's face as she embraced Tom. With a burst, everything disappeared. Including the woman, and gave way to a world of red.
Tom was standing in a river of blood. Dead horses floated past him with the current. People, calling out and cheering at him, surrounded the bank of the river. In front of everyone stood a crying Kelly- soundlessly yelling and pointing at something in the river. Tom turned around and saw a baby strangling in the water. He picked up the baby until it dissolved in hid hands.
Tom woke, sweating and breathing quickly. He disrobed himself and ran to the river. A short wash would do him good. The cold water on his skin calmed him greatly. As he sat in the sun to and dried off he pondered about the recent dreams he's been having. All with a woman, one with Kelly… No! He wouldn't think about this all day, things had to be done.
He went back to his lodge and dressed himself. Tom grabbed his rifle and a small sack of bullets; he was running out of meat. In the shadows of brush and trees alike he stalked the forest, his quick eyes searching for a deer. And there she was, a young doe grazing in the shade of the lush trees. As Tom loaded his rifle he sang the deer song and sang, the words coming of their own accord. The loud bang of the rifle rang through out his ears and a flash of blood flew through the air. He got the deer.