Natchez: A Short Story

When we arrived at Barnes’ farm that night it was just around dusk. The sun had started setting and all of the teens were scrambling around to get the luggage off the two charter busses before the sun went down. Once all the luggage was loaded onto carts we headed off in the direction of our campsite. As the group was walking the sun fell below the horizon and the darkness set in. The woods were unfamiliar and treacherous, we had been walking for what felt like hours, climbing over hill, squeezing through trees, and tripping over decaying logs. We were hopelessly lost. When it felt like we would never find our tents we stumbled upon a friend out looking for us. He led us to the tent, that still needed to be set up, and a table of food. We

A lone candle burns into the senseless night. Its wax trickling down its side. I stare at the clock and it is barely half past nine, yet time seems to stand still. I stare at the window and investigate the nasty mesmerizing blizzard falling outside my window. I could not grasp anything other than the snow. All I can do is moan as each passing second this bloody snow lingers and destroys my vision of a perfect Christmas, in which Santa would come and visit me in my sleep. At the time I was only four but I treasured Christmas and the snow surrounding it. Little did I know the damage that it would entail into my life.

On a blazing hot summer early morning with the city traffic roaring! And the hot sun blazing, birds chirping and the smell of fresh green grass. Me and my family were packing and getting ready for our yearly powwow trail trip. My mooshum and kokum were they’re usual selves laughing and cracking jokes, I and my cousins knew they weren’t that funny but laughed at their jokes anyways. After we were all packed and ready we all piled into my kookum’s van and set off to our destination with the hot sun reflecting off the black pavement. The drive to Muskoday reserve was long and tiring, the van was humid and making us irritated, so I decided to roll down my window to let the summer air cool us off, the cool breeze was flowing and the music was booming! A bit later we arrived to our destination with our eyes popping taking in all the scenery around us, mind you this was our first time being in the reserve Muskoday. The excitement of being there and meeting new people was over whelming, the anxious feeling of just wanting to run off and enjoy the scenery with my cousins and friends I had met before from the powwow trails we took yearly.

As Bill took his first step in the woods, he takes a deep breath soaking in the scent of oak and fresh ash. “far removed from the seats of strife”, not having a warm bed or hot meals even a full night rest. Knowing he had one abventure ahead for Bill and Kats. Both having to hike 16 miles everyday over rocks,trees, crossing ice cold rivers, and hearding the rain outside of thier tend and the roaring of the bears at night.

“We received no food. We lived in snow; it took the place of bread. The days resembled the nights, and the nights left in our souls the dregs of their darkness. The train rolled slowly, often halted for a few hours, and continued. It never stopped snowing. We remained lying on the floor for days and nights, one on top of the other, never uttering a word. We were nothing but frozen

I just led us in a straight line,” Ben adamantly tried to explain. Then, a cacophony of twigs breaking and bushes rustling started in the distance ahead of them. The relaxed ambiance dropped suddenly. They stood there frozen from fear as the sounds began to move nearer and louder. Then all at once, they began running in the opposite direction they had been walking in, and went straight back to the bonfire to seek the comfort and protection of their family. When they got there, they saw no trace of their brothers or sisters. Each of their minds raced, just pleading for an answer to what had happened to the people they had depended on. Each of them came up with an idea of their

The atmosphere is gray and white. When we do get snow, the woods look so pure and majestic that you would think that you were dreaming. The blanket of white in the trees and on the grass brings me vivid memories. The winter of 2009 was the year a snow storm pelted our humble town. Twelve inches of snow covered every object in the path of the merciless storm. One of my best friends, Chandler, and I went snow sledding in the midst of the woods. The laughter and joy I experienced that winter will carry with me as long as I live. The cold blushed my cheeks and turned my face a bright red. I closed my eyes and pushed off from the top of the hill. The sled accelerated down the winter wonderland. The sled eventually came to a halt. My family and friends were laughing as I crashed into a bush down below the next time I went. After picking myself up, I was laughing hysterically. We each took turns on the natural roller

The day began with the sun rising above the trees and my surroundings becoming perceivable. Five o’clock was about to strike the clock and leaves began to rustle as the wind blew. Jake Hall and I sat in our ground stand, concentrating on any movement. The dreary cold morning had me crossing my arms, trying to preserve any body heat I had left. The breeze in the morning helped nothing at all, as it just muffled my ears and a burning sensation felt on my cheeks. Jake’s dad, Dave, seemed to be perched against a tree across from us just barely in sight. The day marked the beginning of November, I could feel the stinging from the gelid morning, the motionless time, and the epinephrine from the hunt pumping through my body.

It was a very cold and windy night, the wind was so loud it sounded like one of our members from our pack howling. The cold winter was slowly creeping up on us. The sky had never been darker than tonight it was a grey and black mix, kinda like our fur coats that everyone trembled over, but it was faintly streaked with purple. My two brothers, two sisters, and I have been our own pack since our parents died when they went out hunting following the rich smell of sickness and weakness towards town. We hadn’t eaten in days and our prey were finally outsmarting us as much as we hated to admit it and we were slowly starving to death. Usually on the prairie we could find dear or even bunny rabbits that were just waiting to be teared apart from our

The night coats the air with darkness as we arrive. The only light is the warm glow of the headlights piercing through the thick blanket of the night, and the moon gazing down upon us. Click, our headlamps go on. We hop out the car, as a rush of whipping wind engulfs my face. The cold night air flows through the stitching of my clothes stealing the warmth from my body and sending chills down my spine. My friend and I search to find a campsite, like dogs searching for a buried bone. Walking, I can feel the crisp grit of sand shifting beneath my feet and hear the wind flowing like a river through the trees. Down the worn path, we hang our hammocks and start to gather firewood. Sounds of machetes striking branches fill the woods echoing

The condensed snow under my feet was crushed with every step. The snow was around four inches deep, my boots made a large enough indent, that I made a noticeable trail of holes with every step. The sun had vanished behind a mountain, the sky’s light had gone from an amiable orange, to a mellow blue. I could see outline of the moon between two clouds, and the air’s bite grew colder by the moment. I had taken a detour, past a thin slice of trees near to my neighborhood. Even for a forest, it was a cold, silent place. I used to come out to places like this as a kid, quiet places where I would sit and be alone for hours. I guess I forgot how often that was, but for the moment, I had something else to worry about.

It was a cold day in January, and I was in a lodge at Sunday River. Sunday River is the second largest ski resort in Maine, with 820 skiable acres. I had only been there 4 or 5 other times, and I could only remember the last time. The lodge smelled like fried food, doughnuts, and soda. I was sweating inside my 4 layers of clothing but it felt like I was in an oven. As I walked out the door of the lodge, I had to half hobble because of my ski boots.

This area is a snowy wonderland with cold weather and numerous lakes. The ground and the coniferous trees are covered in sparkling white snow, and the sky is full of mystical colors, purple, blue, green, while the air feels of frost and bitterness. Despite the friendly impression this creates, there are also many dangers

I was sitting on the cold, white sand. At least those are the words I would use to describe what I saw at the time. Everything that surrounded me, was foreign. White frozen flakes fell from the sky, piling up to become huge marshmallows. Yet, they tasted nothing like them. At first, grass and small flowers were the only, thing you could spot on the floor; but, that image vanished. Going from a forest at my grandfather’s house, to a mini winter wonderland. At first, the snow was barely noticeable, sinking beneath the grass. Then a few moments later, all you could see was masses of snow. I sat down in the center to fully take in my surroundings. Right as my butt was about to land, I heard a soft whoosh sound. I barely had enough time to react before I felt a snow ball plummet into my face. The fatal shot exploded on contact, doing more damage than your average snowball. Actually, now that I 'm reflecting on the situation, I think someone used a rock and just coated with snow. I stumbled back, in slow motion of course, with saliva flying out of my mouth. My hands shot up in the air and my body did a full 180 turn. Slowly, I fell to the ground, closing my eyes, and in that exact moment the thought hit me. “Why can we drink a drink, but not food a food?”. Boom, I hit the floor, and my

It was a frigid day in December. I wore so many clothes that I looked like a penguin. Every breath I took makes a small cloud and scattered. The gloves I worn seemed to be mildness like paws. The buildings behind me were covered by the thick snow. The wall became more brick-red because of the spotless white snow. Some snowflakes drift down on my hair gently. The snow was heavy, but not much wind. My friends bounced from worm house and laughed to me. “We should build a snowman. The snow is heavy enough.” One of my friends advised. We all cheered and started to pile the snow together.