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Going Home: Stepping From The Mist
Alex slowly, ever so slowly, crawled forward; he couldn’t see his target yet, but he could hear him and smell the cigarette smoke. He knew that whoever this man was, he was alone and he was in Alex’s way; it would take too long to circle around and cross the small river up stream, so this man had to die. He knew that this was an innocent, a noncombatant, but he had no choice; he only had eighteen more hours to reach his target and he couldn’t wait this man out any longer. He continued to move, the man unaware of his presence and the jungle uncaring that he was here; Alex had spent much of his adult life in jungles just like this and he understood them, knew what would upset the creatures around him and knew how to become part of his environment.
He belonged in this primitive place, he was as at home here as he was in his small cabin in the states; it didn’t happen often to white men but it happened to him, the jungle and the wild creatures that called this dark foreboding place home, had accepted him as one of their own. It hadn’t always been this way, there was a time when he was a normal man, a time when he had a home, and a family, and even a name – but no longer. He no longer belonged in the company of his species, no longer belonged with the civilized, no longer belonged with the living; he was a shade, a ghost trapped between life and death and he hated the living as much as he hated the dead that visited him every night.
Alex, and that wasn’t even his real name, not the name his mother had given him; he had a name once but he had forgotten it, well not forgotten but left it behind. That name was a part of his past life, a life he had walked away from because it rejected what he had become; when he left that life behind he left behind all the things that it contained: his name, his friends, and his family. Of all the things lost to him, the only thing he missed was his family; his mother and sisters that he had not written, called, spoken to, or seen in nearly a decade – it was hard to see their faces now, behind the fog of time.
He belonged in this primitive place, he was as at home here as he was in his small cabin in the states; it didn’t happen often to white men but it happened to him, the jungle and the wild creatures that called this dark foreboding place home, had accepted him as one of their own. It hadn’t always been this way, there was a time when he was a normal man, a time when he had a home, and a family, and even a name – but no longer. He no longer belonged in the company of his species, no longer belonged with the civilized, no longer belonged with the living; he was a shade, a ghost trapped between life and death and he hated the living as much as he hated the dead that visited him every night.
Alex, and that wasn’t even his real name, not the name his mother had given him; he had a name once but he had forgotten it, well not forgotten but left it behind. That name was a part of his past life, a life he had walked away from because it rejected what he had become; when he left that life behind he left behind all the things that it contained: his name, his friends, and his family. Of all the things lost to him, the only thing he missed was his family; his mother and sisters that he had not written, called, spoken to, or seen in nearly a decade – it was hard to see their faces now, behind the fog of time.
32 pages, Kindle Edition
Published July 6, 2017
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