Off The Grid


Someone was coming up the trail.

Garrison hadn’t seen another human being in weeks, not since Mr. Marco had sent him up to the cabin in the hills.  As of now, the figure was nothing more than a dot in the distance, but he was moving steadily forward; that much was for certain.  During his time here, Garrison had gotten in the habit of checking the trail periodically with his binoculars, diligently guarding himself against any unwanted intrusion.  The trail stretched for nearly a half a mile down the hill before being swallowed up by the forest.  Not even wide enough for a car, it was the only way to reach the cabin.  If you wanted in, you’d have to hike in.  Mr. Marco had built it that way special, the perfect hide out.

Garrison continued to watch the man through his binoculars.  By now, he was still only a spec in the distance.  At first, Garrison had been excited, watching to see if the man was wearing the telltale red stocking cap that Mr. Marco had told him to be on the lookout for.  But even at this distance, Garrison could see that the man’s stocking cap was not red.  It was florescent orange, the kind used often by hunters.  He’d been afraid of this.  Ordinarily, the cabin was hidden so well that it was unlikely that anyone would stumble across it accidentally.  A hunter, on the other hand, could find it easily enough if he were willing to hike this deep into the hilly country.

Garrison continued to watch, hoping that the guy would turn around and head back into the woods.

But the figure kept coming.

Maybe he was lost.  Maybe he saw the cabin situated on the hill and was heading up to use the phone or to get out of the cold for a while.  Either way, Garrison couldn’t allow it.  He couldn’t risk being found.





About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)