Chapter 1
Stacking the Kindling
“Before you can enjoy the warmth and light of a fire,
You must endure the cold and darkness,
To stack the dry wood,
To spark a flame.”
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Things happen in Life that are beyond our control eighty percent of the time. Ten percent we can handle, and ten percent that is just outside our capabilities. We control how our lives grow and change, but we don’t control how long those changes last or how much we gain from them. The one constant we think we control is how long we have to make our existence known, that when our time is up, we have left an imprint on our world.
It was a cold November morning, the sun just starting to shine through the half wintered trees. It was a beautiful sight, the evergreens defying Winters’ early grasp as orange and browning leaves fell from the trees, the only sound of a few birds welcoming the day and squirrels barking and fighting each other. I was sitting in an old oak tree, a climbing stand my only seat, and a pair of camouflage overalls my source of warmth, hands claiming refuge in the felt lined pockets. My only companion was a wood longbow and three carbon fiber arrows, a gift from my grandfather for my fifthteenth birthday, and never left my side since then. And this morning, I had a feeling that something was bound to happen- that I would leave my mark and earn my name. About forty minutes after sunrise, I heard the distinct sound of hooves walking over dried and frost covered leaves. Turning to my right, I spotted a monster whitetail buck, his antlers counting more than twelve points and standing over ten inches tall, body thick with muscle, and fur a beautiful dark brown with a black tint around his snout. Moving with practiced care, I slowly stood up, grabbing my bow and an arrow. Quietly, I notch the arrow, following his movements, and waiting for him to stop in the clearing twenty yards away from my stand. Seconds tick by, each slower than the last as my heart beats faster and faster until I feel as if he might hear the thunder in my chest. Finally he steps out, stopping to eat a few briars and acorns. With a practiced motion- one practiced so much it’s instinctual- I pull the bow up, left hand loosely gripping the wood with my elbow bent, arrow pulled back with my right hand and the first two fingers holding the taut string, until the fletching at the rear of the arrow touching the corner of my mouth. Taking aim, I point the arrow head just behind his shoulder- a guaranteed kill shot, through his heart and both lungs- and let loose the string as I exhale.
Time slows down as I watch the arrow sail through the trees like a speed boat over open waters, when a sudden, sharp, stinging pain in my arm makes me gasp in surprise and double over. In my surprise, I drop my longbow and in a panic reach out for it, causing me lose my balance and fall off the climbing stands small platform. I flail my arms, trying to catch anything to stop my fall only to knock off the other two arrows I had brought with me. During the fall, I had managed a glimpse of the clearing, my arrow shining in the light with tufts of brown and white fur falling around it and no sign of the monster buck. My heart breaks at the sight as I slam into the ground, bouncing from the impact and gasping for air as the wind was knocked out of me, not registering the pain in my head. I don’t have time to move as the arrows reach the end of their fall, one bouncing off of the ground- the shaft breaking and cutting my right eyelid, as the second hits my left eye- blade fist. I think I screamed, but a coldness started to creep into my arms and legs, feeling in each fading as the loss of sensation creeped further and further until I couldn’t feel, hear, or see anything.
I don’t know how long I was in that state before I felt a warmth, a small fleeting feeling. I wanted to move to it, to free myself from the freezing darkness. I needed to reach it. I feel as if lead weights are tied to every bone and muscle in my body as I blindly crawl to the warmth, struggling to move on my hands and knees. I get within touching distance when the darkness covers me again, swallowing me whole. With a silent cry for freedom, I jump towards the warmth- a blinding light freeing me from the frosted chains wrapped around my body- and grab hold onto something soft and solid like a old dogs paw with the comforting feeling my grandfather's hugs. Everything starts to fade, and I thought I heard my mother's voice before there is nothing.