The fire was burning and I sat next to it trying to get warm, the moon light up the sky and everything below it so I could see clearly over the lake. I sat there listening to the logs crack and pop as they charred in the flame, I could hear little crickets rubbing there legs together like a violinist playing just for me, I smelled the smoke and tasted the air. Tonight would be a good night.
I sat on the stump I turned into a chair and thought of my mother, how sweet she was when I was younger, how she pushed me to be better at everything I do, how much she cared for me when others didn't. She was really one of a kind.
I just ate my dinner which was something I found in the forest and promptly cooked up over my open fire pit, I was happy I knew how to do that. So many kids these days don't know how to make a good meal out of something you find just hanging out in the woods. I like hunting everything.
As I laid on my sleeping mat looking up at the burning balls of gas millions and billions of miles away I thought to myself about what I could've been in life, maybe I could've been a big shot CEO or maybe a professional football player, but then again those were never for me. I laid there with no blanket but I basked in the light that was reflecting off that lovely moon. My beautiful Bella Luna.
I tried to get some sleep because I had to be up soon, being me is hard work and I'm not much for running around. The only thing that ever was running was my mind, not even my mouth would ever be running. I hate running, I find it pointless.
When I awoke from my little nap I brushed my eyes, grabbed my mask, grab my tool, and headed off to do what I do best, time to kill some campers.
Until next time diary, Jason Voorhees will remain forever looking to my Bella Luna.
 |
| "Killing time" can have two meanings. |
No comments:
Post a Comment