A man who wanders

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
To wander is a dangerous game.

Submitted: July 01, 2014

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Submitted: July 01, 2014



“A man who wanders is not necessarily lost, a man who wanders shows that he belongs in his own world that he doesn’t need the social constructs of human interaction to feel embraced. A man who wanders thinks in his own realm and belongs in such realm until his last breath has overcome him in his sleep as his mind dazes away, the wanderer will continue even after death.”

The wanderer climbs over a steep ledge giving off a loud grunt as he collapses over the side breathing heavily on the rocky bed of the cliff. “Dam!” said the wanderer as he peered down at the wound on the side of his quadriceps, it was bandaged but the bandage was soaked in blood, it began to drip off the edges and was slowly beginning to bleed out once again.

The wanderer slowly raised himself grabbing a close pine tree branch to support his weight. The wanderer made noises of pain as he began to traverse through the woods. The wanderer was a rugged man, jeans, brimmed felt cowboy hat, boots and wrangler shirt pointed out a distinct western culture vibe. The wanderer was born in the woods and wanted to die in the woods as his last wish, he knew if he died now it would not be in vain.

He continued through the pinewood trees limping and grabbing hold of the pine branches as he went along. Blood began to leak out of the wound. The wanderer stopped knowing he had to re patch his possibly fatal wound before he bled to death. He sat against a tree slowly unravelling the bandage, “Bloody hell” he said softly. The wanderer pulled out his hunting knife and cut a sleeve off his shirt “My favourite shirt, why is it always my favourite shirts?” he said questioning himself. The wanderer began to apply the sleeve to the wound, wrapping it tight. “Better” he said and pulled himself up continuing on.

To wander is a dangerous game, with no communication even an experienced wanderer could end up dead never to be seen or heard of again. Our wanderer was determined not to die today as he knew it couldn’t be his time, not yet. The wanderer was heading towards his cabin which he knew could have only been several kilometres away. The birds watch as he limped through the woods they sung and gave the wanderer peace of mind only ones true home could emit.

Several kilometres onwards the wanderer could see the cabin across a ravine in the distance, he felt relieved, by now the wanderer’s leg has become numb and is only jaggedly moving, but he didn’t give up, he knew he had to make it or at least die trying. Out of pure desperation the wanderer launched himself into the ravine and prayed he was strong enough to swim to the other side.

At first he was strong but nature began to overcome him as he was rapidly taken down stream away from the cabin. The wanderer went for kilometres just keeping afloat until he washed up onto the side of the ravine, exhausted and near death the wanderer laid drenched and bleeding once again, accepting his fate. the wanderer laid looking up towards the midday sky knowing that at least he’s going where he belongs, he starred at the sky “blue as a woman eyes” he thought smiling before he closed his own listening to the rushing water that would always put him to sleep at night make one more noise.


By - Dylan Weiss

© Copyright 2019 DylanW. All rights reserved.

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