Far out in the Woods

Jonathan Pharr

Professor Good

RC 2001-105

7 September 2016

Far Out in the Woods

        Sellers and his best friend, Dewey, were camping far out in the woods in Pisgah National Forest.  As he sat there gazing at the fire, he tried to conjure up the right words to convey what was going on in his head. They both dragged on their Camel cigarettes and sipped on some cheap bourbon while they looked up at the crystal clear night sky. Instead of being honest with his friend, Sellers lied and pretended he was fine.  In reality, he was far from fine.  When Dewey fell asleep, Sellers sat there watching the embers burn out.  He wanted nothing more than to be free from the emptiness he felt inside.  His brother’s v^[a]oice still lingering in the back of his head, “I fucked up, I’m so sorry. Please, I need your help.” He blamed himself for not calling the police in his brother’s dying moment, but part of him knew they wouldn’t have reached him in time.  He pulled out his Glock from his hip holster.  As he sat there with the gun in his hand, he began to think of the book his childhood friend published about his mother committing suicide.  Sellers knew far too well the demons that haunt you after such an event.  Instead of putting the gun to his head, Sellers pulled out a pen and a piece of paper.  He knew he couldn’t save his brother, but maybe his story could save someone else.  As a young, eighteen year old kid fresh out of high school, he had already witnessed two suicides.  He often struggled in his writing in school and had no idea where^[b] to start in his story.  He pulled out a Camel cigarette and gazed back into the fire.    

Sellers awoke to two swift taps on his door. The room was dark as night.  He slept in his older brother’s bed in his old room in the Harry Potter like basement.

“You need to wake up, its 11am and the pastor is here to talk to you about your brother” said his dad.

 Sellers rolled over in the bed, he hadn’t slept that night.  His brother’s voice was still lingering in the back of his head, “You are dead to me.”  

He responded, “Ok dad, give me like ten minutes.”

 As Sellers got out of bed, he could hear the footsteps above.  His entire family was already at his house, and he could still hear his mother’s faint sobs through the walls.  He got up, put on the same pair of his favorite fishing shorts that he had put on for the past two days and walked to the bathroom.  He turned the hot water on in the shower and looked at himself in the mirror.  His eyes were baggy, and swollen from no sleep. As he touched his knuckles, he felt a sharp pain in his hand. The image of his brother’s stiff, lifeless body haunted him when he closed his eyes.  Sellers took off his shorts and got in the shower.  His dad yelled down the basement stairs, “Everyone is waiting on you!”  Sellers replied, “Five more minutes!”  Sellers let out a deep breath and closed his eyes again.