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[at-l] *Fiction, Part 2*
This is even less than before, and it weren't nuthin':
I laid there a while longer, an eternity or more. Finally, I said "Which
one?" Nothing. He made some snoring-type noises, though I had never heard
them before. I rolled over and finally felt relaxed enough to sleep.
In what seemed like ten minutes later, I could hear him shuffle around.
He was loading his pack. I quietly checked my watch. 2 friggin' 30?
"Where ya goin'?" I asked, shaking the cobwebs from my head.
"It's 2:30" I informed him.
"Yea. I can't sleep" he said, talking to the floor.
"Where are you headed?"
"I'm not sure. Ain't never sure" he said in a soft, quiet voice. I could
tell he was feeling extremely emotional. He was almost melancholy. I
actually started to feel sorry for him.
"Why don't you lay back down and we can talk." I've never been short of
words, even to large, hulking figures that scared the bejesus out of me.
He walked over to the opening where the ladder comes up and lowered his
pack. He started to climb down, and as his head reached floor level, he
turned to me and said " Little man, don't ever tell anybody how to hike."
He disappeared. In a very short time I could hear nothing from him.
He was gone.
Needless to say, I stared at the ceiling for quite a while. I couldn't
even see the ceiling and I stared at it. What did that mean? Where was he
going? Would I see him again? Where'd he get that sleeping bag? All
questions I wanted the answers to. Where are the Hardy Boys when you need
It ain't much, but try http://members.tripod.com/~Felixhikes/index.html
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