The Scent of Death

The Scent of Death is in the Air. It’s more of a feeling, a state of mind, than a fact. Regardless of what it meant, the reality of it was present.

“Huah-Huah-Ha-Ha! You cannot fuck with me!” His deep voice boomed, echoing amongst the paved road and redwoods that surrounded him in the gulch. “Ha! HA! HAA!!” His voice got louder, the intent of syllables more pronounced with each step.

He was walking down a dark road, during an hour after most of the residents had locked their doors and turned their TVs on to drown out their own troubled thoughts from the day.

She laid there, her window open, her cat curled in her lap.

“YOU REALLY THINK YOU CAN FUCK WITH ME!! HA HA …HA!”

The cat had perked its ears up, tensed its neck, and stared straight at the front door.

Did I remember to lock it? She ran over to the door, to find that it was still unlocked, and that her porch light was still on. A stream of anxiety washed over her as she tried her hardest to sharpen her hearing, to decipher exactly where this unstable voice was hailing from. CLICK. She locked the door and hit the switch for the light. Checked for her ax, just in case.

“Ha!...Ha..HA!” What a maniacal laugh. It was almost theatrical but sounded more like it was brought on by years of drug abuse.

She could see a flashlight shining, but it caught the glare of her many windows, refracting through glass and bouncing off another window. Breath. She took in a deep breath and looked through the screen of her only open window, the window that faces the road, which sits 20 feet above any walkable area and on the other side of the creek. There he was.

It was pitch black, as it was often darker along this road even during the day. The tree cover was dense, and this neighborhood was an unincorporated part of town, leaving it to have a wilderness feel despite only being 2 miles from the main shopping centers. She had been living here for nearly 2 years and had never heard anyone speaking outside after 10pm. Let alone a mad man laughing as loud as he could muster. How quickly a safe, quiet part of the forest can feel like a wild, omened-section of the woods.

She watched out her window as this faceless entity walked along the road wearing a headlamp, the light and loud voice being the only evidence of him there. Is he looking for attention? He could easily just walk along this road, unnoticed. The road he’s walking will hit a dead end in a few miles, unless he decides to walk up a hiking hill. But at this time of night, there are wild animals to be fearful of. Is this man off of his medicine, in need of attention? Or is he scoping what is around?Surely, the houses that sit directly on the road could actually see him.

So many thoughts crossed her mind, leaving her paralyzed. Should she call 911–would authorities actually do anything to help him, or would they simply “protect” the tucked away neighborhood by arresting him? Should she try to engage with him–ha! A single lone female in the woods at night, yeah right!

“Ha-ha-haaa.” He walked down the road, further and further until she couldn’t hear him or see his light any longer. Out of sight, out of mind. Another chance to help another, successfully avoided.

She walked over to her bed and stretched. Safe inside on this cold night as he walked along the gulch, making himself vulnerable to mountain lions, wild turkeys, and God knows what. The Scent of Death is in the Air. Is it him? Or could it be her own connection to what is right and what is wrong?