Post by Milo on Apr 12, 2006 16:52:38 GMT -5
There was a rustle in the trees. A light wind shook the leaves into whispers, and for the most part, things appeared to be calm. Calm, that is, until a yelp, followed by an angry roar, burst forth from not so far away in the distance. The birds suddenly ceased their warbling as a skinny boy rushed madly through the underbrush, crashing through thorn bushes and poison ivy, clutching a knapsack to his chest for dear life. He leapt a small stone wall that bisected that particular area of the forest and kept running, tired though he seemed to be. A gleam of intense adrenaline, fear, and excitement sparked in his eye, and just as he made for a clearing in the trees, a very large, very angry bear came into view. To all appearances, she was a mother bear just woken from hibernation, and her demeanor was not gay. She lumbered with more speed than would be expected, and bellowed her dismay as she pursued the boy, who was now standing in the middle of the clearing, looking quite lost and completely out of breath. He stood for a moment, trembling slightly, staring at the advancing beast, before he took off again. He didn't manage more than ten or fifteen meters before he tripped over a protruding root and tumbled to the ground in a heap. He turned around, terrified, just as the bear broke into the clearing and rose to her full height, bellowing with increased ardor and swinging her paws, roughly the size of small frying pans. He stared at her, transfixed in terror and amazement, as she advanced laboriously on her back legs, obviously extremely aggravated and openly hostile. He closed his eyes, awaiting the fell blow. It didn't come. A shrill, plaintive cry broke the relative silence of the forest. Her cub, no doubt, had become aware of his momentary lack of mother, and was no doubt seeking her out. The bear shot the boy a dirty look, grumbled under her breath, and swiped her paw one last time, telling him as clear as day that his ass had been saved by pure luck. She lurched around and trotted back out of the clearing, calling in a relatively sweet matter to her abandoned young.
It took Milo a moment to get his bearings and to stop trembling. He stood up, eyes still locked to the point at which the bear had disappeared, and absently brushed himself off, wincing as he noticed the burning itch caused by his disregard for poison ivy. His knees were still knocking a bit, but he was quite aware that the sun was going down and that he ought to get back home. He was entirely capable of surviving the night in the forest, as he had done so countless times before, but the incident with the bear had left him extremely uneasy and unwilling to spend any more time in the vicinity than he had to. Had it been a boar, he would have climbed a tree, but bears could do that too, so he was far better off returning home and beginning his expedition the next day.
He set off at a reasonable pace, following his own tracks back to where he had come from, making a wide detour of the cave in which he had disturbed the bear. He muttered to himself darkly, looking back behind him every now and then and shuddering. He had experienced many a close encounter, but he’d never expected to find a bear in such a place, infested with humans. The line of trees was receding quickly from the main road (much like his uncle’s hairline, he noted with some amusement), and it was a wonder that all the wildlife hadn’t been driven out already. Tramping along, stopping every so often to rub some jewelweed on his painfully itching arms, he made it out of the forest and back down a dirt road to his home just after nightfall.
None of the lights were on, but the door was unlocked, so he made little work of fixing himself a sandwich and drawing a hot bath, complete with oatmeal for the itch. The house was an old farmhouse, with three stories and a crawlspace instead of a cellar. Nobody expected a boy with such wealthy parents to live there, but they had moved away from the suburban development they had until then resided in when Milo’s father got a promotion and became the CEO of marketing at Intel. He was currently away on business for a week in Tokyo, while his wife stayed at home and tended to the re-decoration of the family’s newly acquired house. She, however, was out that evening with her girlfriends. They had left that very morning for an undisclosed location, which Milo speculated involved massive loss of income by way of gambling, and massive loss of dignity by way of drinking. He didn’t much mind. His mother was really a nice woman, but she had a wild side that she’d never quite been able to renounce, even after marrying her high school sweetheart.
Milo stood on the toilet so that he could view his itching torso in the mirror above the sink. He was still a measly five foot five, with the bone structure of a gazelle and ridiculously pale skin, paired with equally ridiculously long lashes. He speculated that with the addition of breasts, one might have taken him for a girl. He didn’t much care, as long as he didn’t have to pretend to like the dratted things. That he was gay was an understatement. He was a misanthrope who specialized in women, which meant that he had few friends and no desire for more. Just when he began to analyze his hair, and then the rest of him, a deafening crash resounded through the air, making the world seem flimsy and fragile as the entire house quaked on its foundations, quailing against the wave of sound that assaulted it. It passed quickly, however, and the sound died away, leaving complete silence and a smell that reminded Milo unpleasantly of sulfur. He shot from the bathroom, forgetting to shut off the taps, and found himself outside, staring in complete disbelief at the space ship that had made a crash landing in the field that was his back yard.
It took Milo a moment to get his bearings and to stop trembling. He stood up, eyes still locked to the point at which the bear had disappeared, and absently brushed himself off, wincing as he noticed the burning itch caused by his disregard for poison ivy. His knees were still knocking a bit, but he was quite aware that the sun was going down and that he ought to get back home. He was entirely capable of surviving the night in the forest, as he had done so countless times before, but the incident with the bear had left him extremely uneasy and unwilling to spend any more time in the vicinity than he had to. Had it been a boar, he would have climbed a tree, but bears could do that too, so he was far better off returning home and beginning his expedition the next day.
He set off at a reasonable pace, following his own tracks back to where he had come from, making a wide detour of the cave in which he had disturbed the bear. He muttered to himself darkly, looking back behind him every now and then and shuddering. He had experienced many a close encounter, but he’d never expected to find a bear in such a place, infested with humans. The line of trees was receding quickly from the main road (much like his uncle’s hairline, he noted with some amusement), and it was a wonder that all the wildlife hadn’t been driven out already. Tramping along, stopping every so often to rub some jewelweed on his painfully itching arms, he made it out of the forest and back down a dirt road to his home just after nightfall.
None of the lights were on, but the door was unlocked, so he made little work of fixing himself a sandwich and drawing a hot bath, complete with oatmeal for the itch. The house was an old farmhouse, with three stories and a crawlspace instead of a cellar. Nobody expected a boy with such wealthy parents to live there, but they had moved away from the suburban development they had until then resided in when Milo’s father got a promotion and became the CEO of marketing at Intel. He was currently away on business for a week in Tokyo, while his wife stayed at home and tended to the re-decoration of the family’s newly acquired house. She, however, was out that evening with her girlfriends. They had left that very morning for an undisclosed location, which Milo speculated involved massive loss of income by way of gambling, and massive loss of dignity by way of drinking. He didn’t much mind. His mother was really a nice woman, but she had a wild side that she’d never quite been able to renounce, even after marrying her high school sweetheart.
Milo stood on the toilet so that he could view his itching torso in the mirror above the sink. He was still a measly five foot five, with the bone structure of a gazelle and ridiculously pale skin, paired with equally ridiculously long lashes. He speculated that with the addition of breasts, one might have taken him for a girl. He didn’t much care, as long as he didn’t have to pretend to like the dratted things. That he was gay was an understatement. He was a misanthrope who specialized in women, which meant that he had few friends and no desire for more. Just when he began to analyze his hair, and then the rest of him, a deafening crash resounded through the air, making the world seem flimsy and fragile as the entire house quaked on its foundations, quailing against the wave of sound that assaulted it. It passed quickly, however, and the sound died away, leaving complete silence and a smell that reminded Milo unpleasantly of sulfur. He shot from the bathroom, forgetting to shut off the taps, and found himself outside, staring in complete disbelief at the space ship that had made a crash landing in the field that was his back yard.
