Random Musings of a Dead Man - Part 1

Take a moment to close your eyes. Imagine you are in the heart of a thick dense forest and take a deep breath in through your nose. Can you smell that earthy scent of life along with the sweet smell of the berries from the palm trees mixed with a delicate fragrance from the Rafflesia flower? I would be very surprised if you could, as you were supposed to close your eyes at the start of this so how you have carried on reading will forever be a mystery.

Maybe you have picked this up a few hundred years in the future and everyone reads in Braille or maybe someone with no life decided to take the time to turn it into an audiobook. Who knows, the possibilities are endless and I cannot wait to see what turns out.

Anyway, before I digress, let’s get back to it. You are in a forest.

If you have ever been to a forest then you will notice a few things. Some are startlingly obvious and I will not bore you with going over them, but some are not so “stand out” until you have spent enough time to become aware. The main one of these subtleties is how each sound made by the wildlife that inhabits it is, for the most part, hushed. Each animal only makes a sound when absolutely necessary unless they are high in the trees feeling a false sense of security and smugness. On the ground, they scamper and hide like shadows trying to avoid being eradicated by the sun.

So, you can imagine the disturbance as the piercing sounds of twigs snapping and leaves crunching under the weight of a creature that simply strolls through the brush without a care in the world. This is the trademark of an apex predator which does not need to consider the possibility of being hunted. This is the trait of a lion, a true king of the jungle, even though they do not actually live in the jungle but hey, they occasionally walk through so that counts.

This day was different though, this day the lion is being stalked. I know what you are thinking, what manner of ferocious creature would hunt a lion, how big and monstrous must this, well, monster be. In truth, it is probably the least intimidating, broken wretch of a creature you have ever seen hunting.

It was me.

Now, if you have made it this far then I applaud you and I hope that you will allow me to reward you with an insight into the most impactful day of my life.

I was once a fierce warrior of my tribe. Oh, the stories I could tell about our adventures through the wilderness, the creatures we fought and wars of land we won. I stood tall and proud amongst my people and even after injuring my leg during a hunt, I was still treated with respect and allowed the honour of rest.

From then on I spent my older years just existing and you know what, I was happy with that. Content with floating around like one of the detested vultures that linger near potential food whilst parting bits of information on anyone who would be willing to entertain me. Happy within my perfect bubble, happy until the arrogance of youth plagued the village and the upcoming warriors began to mock my very existence in it.

How I came to despise those wretches. Was I like this when I was younger? No, I think not, we had respect for our elders and I knew just how to show them pups who was still the alpha. There was one animal that everyone is taught to avoid more than others. One that strengths far exceed that of our greatest warrior and whose speed surpasses our most agile hunter. But for all that I now lacked, I had my wits, experience and the ability to make a plan.

Back to the forest (well it is a very nice forest) and there I am, skulking behind this gracious creature. The path it was taking would bring it through a small gorge with a shrub-covered ledge that would be perfect for an ambush. Diverting off I made it there with plenty of time to spare and watched as he lazily strolled along the side of the stream. Just a little bit further and I would be able to pierce straight through without the need for any fight at all.

Slow deep breaths, a steady unwavering focus and with the patience of a great Kapok tree, I waited. Beads of sweat begin to form on my forehead and then I felt it, a warm flow of air across my back as my hairs stand on end.

I would just like to point out, that in my rash decision to prove myself once again, I may or may not have forgotten a very annoying fact about lions. They have this habit of occasionally travelling together which can be such an inconvenience.

A searing burn tore through my hips as fangs punctured deep into my flesh dragging me down into a heap on the floor. In a mad state of panic, I thrust out with my spear catching this silent nemesis on the shoulder causing it to back off enough to allow me to regain my composure and get back on my feet.

Those fiery orange eyes stare deep into my soul without a flicker of emotion. I felt the warmth of my blood begin to trickle down my thigh so I ready my spear and prepare for the inevitable lunge. Which came, from behind.

Teeth bore into my neck severing my spine with ease as claws shredded my back. Tossed to the side like a ragdoll, I lay there in complete shock as puncture after puncture ravaged my body till my eyes glazed over and the world turned to a peaceful black.

This was the day I died.

I did say it was the most impactful day of my life and no doubt you have questions so feel free to type away in the comments. Maybe one day when I feel in a contemplative mood again, I will answer them and provide some other snippets to my grand adventures and glorious victories.

In the meantime, I will leave you with this.

If I am dead, how did I write this?