By Krystyna Fedosejevs
It can’t be, new flames crackling? My partner extinguished the campfire. We entered our tent, zipped it up, while distant coyotes howled atop the escarpment under a star-studded sky.
A sound woke me sometime at night. I lay still. My mind became yesterday’s newspaper depicting the most grotesque of crimes. Murders. Body disappearances. Campers set on fire. The tent cloth above me pressed inwards. A gun? I froze. Saw more headlines, stories. Drifted into sleep.
Years later, my partner told me he was sure a bear walked about our tent. Didn’t want to tell me then for fear I’d be scared.
There’s never a compelling reason to add worry to a neurotic’s arsenal.
Interesting story. The sort of fears that often preoccupy the mind at night. Especially when in lonely places.