Broken Like Glass by E.J. McCay

Author:E.J. McCay [McCay, E.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B01J90PQVY
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2016-08-17T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty One

It’s dark when I wake up. I sit up and look around. The moon is covered by the billowy clouds I’d seen earlier. I don’t know what time it is, where I am, or how to get home. Momentarily, I’m panicked. I haven’t been in these woods since I was little.

I try to remember what things looked like when I pulled myself up on the shore. Was the tree over there? I think really hard. No, it wasn’t. I’d floated downstream. I don’t even know how far either.

I stand and try to get my bearings. I’m as lost as Superman in a warehouse full of telephone booths. What do I do now?

Walk. That’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to walk away from the stream and keep it to my back. I’m going to walk in a straight line and I’ll get to the edge of the road and I’ll be fine.

My plan starts to fall apart after a while. It makes me wish I’d been using my cell phone. I hadn’t used it since I got to town. No point, really. The only people with the number were in Austin and they knew I needed time. What’s the point of a cellphone if no one is calling you? Only, the point is crystal clear now that I’m lost in the woods without one.

I stop walking after my feet are burning. My endurance level is pretty high so I know I’ve been walking for a while when I find a tree and sit with my back against it. The thought hits me that I’m in the woods and there are all kinds of creepy crawlies living here.

There’s nothing I can do about my current situation so I lean my head back against the tree and watch the sky. The clouds are broken so the moon shines through here and there. The wind picks up and I can taste the dirt in my mouth. The ground is still moist from all the rain we’ve been getting.

I wish I’d brought a jacket, but it was too hot when I left the house this morning. The wind picks up again and the trees shimmy. It’s cold. You’d think by the end of May it’d be livable at night, but, again, it’s Texas. Nothing about the weather in Texas makes any sense to me.

The next time the wind blows, I take a deep breath. The air is chilly, but it feels so good in my lungs. I love when the air has a sharpness to it. I don’t necessarily want to stay in it, but I do love it.

The woods are singing, and I relax enough I drift off to sleep again.

My morning is tinged grey when I wake up, on my side, mouth in the dirt. I spit and sputter as I push off the ground. Stretching, I take in my surroundings and I’m still lost. I can hear the stream, but I can’t tell which direction the noise is coming from.

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