Red Bluff Short Story

The sun was glistening through the tall, swaying pines. To the right of the trail, a gentle river flowed softly down towards the mouth of the lake. Walking across the rickety wooden bridge, I inhaled a deep breath of refreshingly crisp mountain air. The sun beat down on me as I made my way across the bridge and back onto the well-used hiking trail. The ambient sounds of chirping birds, babbling water, and the croaks of several frogs filled my ears as I made my way around the bend. As I entered the mouth of the forest, I could see my father standing in the middle of the path, glancing upwards, taking in the beauty that had began to engulf us. “We better get going.” he said, looking back at me. “There’s still many miles to go.” I smiled and turned, taking in one last view of the beautiful creekside. Then, with determination, we set out to finish the challenging trek we had started.

Imagine, if you will, a brisk night wind coming fast across a lake carrying a pungent smell, something you can’t quite identify, but is nonetheless familiar enough to send a shiver up your spine. As it hits the trees, they creak out a somber call in the still night air. Or was that groan something more…human? You notice, for the first time, the absence of tires humming on pavement and you wonder if it’s that late, or maybe just a slow night. The soft tapping of your shoes on the sidewalk is the only accompaniment your slow breathing has as you move towards the warmth of your home, holding thoughts of a warm bed in the palm of your hand to keep the chill away. You don’t notice at first, perhaps because the reality of what you’re hearing is

We had not gone a rod when we found ourselves in a heap, in a heavy drift of snow. We took hold of each others’ hands, pulled ourselves out, got into the road, and the cold north wind blew us down the road a half mile south, where the Strelow boys and John Conrad had to go west a mile or more. When they reached a bridge in a ravine, the little fellows sheltered a while under the bridge, a wooden culvert, but Robert, the oldest, insisted that they push on thru the blinding storm for their homes. In the darkness they stumbled in, and by degrees their parents thawed them out, bathed their frozen hands, noses, ears and cheeks, while the boys cried in pain. “My brothers and I could not walk thru the deep snow in the road, so we took down the rows of corn stalks to keep from losing ourselves ’till we reached our pasture fence. Walter was too short to wade the deep snow in the field, so Henry and I dragged him over the top. For nearly a mile we followed the fence ’till we reached the corral and pens. In the howling storm, we could hear the pigs squeal as they were freezing in the mud and snow. Sister Ida had opened the gate and let the cows in from the field to the sheds, just as the cold wind struck and froze her skirts stiff around her like hoops. The barn and stables were drifted over when we reached there. The roaring wind and stifling snow blinded us so that we had to feel thru the yard to the door of our house. “The lamp was lighted. Mother was walking the floor, wringing her hands and calling for her boys. Pa was shaking the ice and snow from his coat and boots. He had gone out to meet us but was forced back by the storm. We stayed in the house all that night. It was so cold that many people froze.” Although most of the information that was collected or the stories that were told were in South Dakota, Nebraska, North Dakota the temperatures took

Grass tickles my bare feet, and the sultry night air caresses my skin as I stand facing the forest. With the moon full and glistening over the dew covered greenery, I am enraptured. The gentle breeze wraps around me like a lovers embrace and I am lost to my surroundings. The nights are beginning to cool with the new season and are a welcomed relief to the waning summer heat.

I stopped for a moment to get out my flashlight and head lamp before it became pitch black. Light works differently in the woods. There is no light unless it is from the sun or the moon. There are no streetlamps or houses with a light on just, dark. It was absolutely frigid once the sun vanished behind the mountains. I was walking up the road that leads in to the camp. The first that hit me was the smell of rancor, The un-mistakable smell of water mixing with soil. The stream was running strong pushing clear all of the leaves that have drifted down from the trees. The stream was flowed like a small reviver collecting all the water from the rain. I set up my hammock just next to it in-between two towering scrub oak trees with squires flying between them and fell asleep to the sound of the trees talking and the streams

The mystery of the jolly good man in he red suit. Flying high in the sky at night on his reindeer driven sleigh. Inside is a magical bag full of endless gifts for every little boy and girl in the world. Have you been good this year? On one special night to deliver them all. How does he do it? That is a mystical adventure I would love to know.

It was like two hands intertwining together when the moon’s light peeked through the gargantuan sycamore trees. We are on the treacherous run to freedom, and I am eager to get there. Because of my bistered skin, I was shackled and cuffed, and forced to work in a field my whole life without my family. If all goes well tonight, I will be a free man who makes his own decisions instead of having everything forced upon me by an austere master. It seems like we had been running for days and my feet had never felt pain this agonizing until now. We slid through the woods like a snake slithering towards its prey until we began to hear voices. They echoed through the trees and would not stop. Ducking behind opaque bushes, we waited for the signal

During a summer day in the plains, a member of the Apache tribe, Adahy, was hunting a wild deer with the intention of killing it to satisfy his urge to hunt. Adahy was known to kill for sport, and leave the corpse of the animal he killed to rot. As the deer bounded off into the woods, Adahy’s overwhelming bloodlust caused him to go after it. After he lost sight of the deer, he realized that he did not realize he didn’t know where in the deep woods he was. Hoping he would find his way, he walked in the direction he thought he came from. Soon night time began to fall, and he began to succumb to the feelings of hunger and cold.

Once they were there, the quarter-mile trek to their place had to be made. It was a small, circular clearing in the cone-bearing woods. The area around the fire pit was dirt, for safety reasons. On the outskirts of the copper-colored dirt were five large, round logs arranged in a circle for sitting. Just a few feet beyond the logs, the forest began again in copious amounts of vegetation and growth, like an untamed lion. That night’s weather was just right. The cool air was

……. Lonely is the hunter who, thinking of his prey, leaves his true love’s warm embrace to face the cold winter day. Then, bypassing his greatest foe – a frozen cabin door, he sets out on his endless search, uncertain what he's searching for ……. I remember the first night Lori and I spent in this apartment. Married one week, we moved to Philadelphia, excited about the start of medical school but nervous about living in a big city. On our first night in this apartment, we slept on the wooden floor under a large sleeping bag. When I think back to that night, every sense in my body experiences a Pavlovian response. I can still feel the two of us lying naked together under the sleeping bag, studying the August night through an open window as though we were seeing the moon and stars for the first

I looked up at the black sky. I hadn't intended to be out this late. The sun had set, and the empty road ahead had no streetlights. I knew I was in for a dark journey home. I had decided that by traveling through the forest would be the quickest way home. Minutes passed, yet it seemed like hours and days. The farther I traveled into the forest, the darker it seemed to get. I was very had to even take a breath due to the stifling air. The only sound familiar to me was the quickening beat of my own heart, which felt as though it was about to come through my chest. I began to whistled to take my mind off the eerie noises I was hearing. In this kind of darkness I was in, it was hard for me to believe that I could be

Jogging back up the drive, I drew near to the fence gate. With one swift movement, I unlatched the lock and opened the door. The gate creaked and my body froze. Maybe I should go to the red book, the thought trickled into my mind. See if it's still there, or better yet, dispose of it in the trash. For five seconds, I remained motionless then impulsively I rounded the fence and strode down the length of the wooden wall. The trees from the forest pressed near me, casting dark shadows, and for a second, it felt as if they were glaring down from their lofty height. A cool ominous breeze push passed me and my eyes scan wildly when suddenly I stopped. At the place where the red book was was a pile of orange leaves. Bending down, I began rustling my fingers through the foliage, but to my surprise, instead of a book...there was an old worn sweater? It wasn't possible, a red sweater? I had seen the book, or at least, I thought I had. A shiver ran through me. It was happening

The howling of the wind brought my eyes to open. Where was I? Focusing in the dark of night, confusion washed over me as I came to realize I was in the desert. Distant landscapes of dry and worn rock surrounded me, and beneath my bare feet I felt the gritty sand caught between my toes. I was surrounded by those rocky hills and yet as I scanned the desolate desert it seemed never ending. The irony of the nighttime desert suddenly set into my body; that ghastly wind moving right through me and chilling my bones to that of splintering ice. The need to move started me forward though, and I felt a sharp ache all over, my body trying to fight against change. Was I lost? My heart began pounding fast in my chest, the blood pumping through my veins

It was dark. No city lights were visible from the forest trail; the only light source was the dim light of the crescent moon in the clear night sky. A lone hiker walked down the trail in the night. The trail was nothing but a pale brown streak that wound through the endless canopy of trees. Leaves glistened with droplets of water that shimmered in the silver moonlight. Water soaked earth soiled and froze one's feet with coarse sandpaper like dirt and icy water. All was quiet except for the constant sound of sloshing from the wet ground. New scenes of trees, more trees, and an occasional body of water appeared in the distance ahead and dissolved quietly into the darkness behind. Still nothing made a sound except for the ground which sloshed when stepped upon. The smell of fresh pine and sage permeated the cold night air.

Slam! I shut the car door behind me. This would be the first year on my own, away from my home and my family. I set my feet on the rough, yet new looking gravel road and let out a sigh. From behind, I hear cars coming my way, and I look around at my surroundings as I grab my things. Trees of all shapes and forms surround me, their green leaves and giant branches enticing me to get closer. I swallow a lump that forms in my throat, urging the already swarming butterflies in my stomach to calm down. This year, I would meet new people and make new friends, it was thrilling. Yet beneath it all, I found myself anxious of the upcoming week. I look around at the trees, trying to convince myself that it wouldn’t be so bad. The camp was small, only 3 buildings, but it was quaint.I glance at the buildings of wood and stone surrounding me, and I notice a woman on the porch. She sits with a smile, her lengthy hair down on the ground. I’m drawn to her like a sheep to a shepherd and I grab my stuff, walking to her. The woman stands and I note she is short and stout. Though she spoke with power and intelligence, she had a soft and kind tone to her voice. She welcomes me into the camp, showing me to a room where I will be sleeping. I put my substantial load on the bed, grabbing my sleeping bag and pillow. I walk out and notice two new campers have arrived, I feel my heart begin to pound within my chest. A tall boy, who to me looked like your average popular