I’m in the woods in the dark. Is there a word that’s sort of halfway between ‘terrified’ and ‘excited’? Like maybe petrifilarated? I could easily be petrifilarated out here; the trees are rustling, the crows are calling each other, and bats are tumbling and darting through the air.
I came out for a sunset walk by the lake. The sun set quicker than I thought, and now it’s twilight - and it’s autumnal twilight too. The cool wind blows crispy leaves along the path and the air turns fresh and damp.
Beware the Jubjub bird and shun
The frumious bandersnatch
... says my brain, unhelpfully.
Every noise in the woods sounds like a person approaching. A twig snap, a muffled thud in the bushes, a furry footstep, a flapping wing of a bird somewhere. The wind sighs and the leaves rush with the sound of waves above my head. All the evils of the wood come racing towards me as Pandora laughs upon the night breeze.
I don’t feel altogether safe. I notice I’m not running to the car either though. Perhaps this is how adventure should be - poised in the uncertainty of relief or despair, captured in a sort of quantum weirdness where you can’t quite tell the difference.
A few people I know would see this situation differently. That’s okay. They’re not here. It’s just me, contemplating the darkness. Others would love it - the solitude, the freedom, the peace and the stillness. They’re not here either.
Well. I suppose I ought to resolve the tension and go home. I don’t want to encounter the jaws that bite or claws that catch.
It’s been pleasant though, out here. I like it.
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