BranDon Rivers

In The Tall Trees

Home Lows set in is chair, watching the fire burn, bright orange with shades of red and yellow. Lows spent most of the day chopping wood. He thought to himself, the night comes early the part of the year. With the early night comes the cold winter front. I must be prepared, Lows said to himself. Lows was in his late forties, but had the energy of a young athlete in his twenties. You had to have a strong will to live this far, this high away from humanity. But this night, something was different. His head felt foggy, with slight vibrations of a bass dum. A piercing ringing in his ears, blurriness in his eyes, legs felt like sharp knifes, cutting through his flesh. As he rolled up his plants leg to look. All he saw was, a thick coat of white hair. Lows leaned back in his seat. His stomuch pins all in them. Did I for get to eat? Lows could not remember. With the pain coming from his legs. Getting up was out of the question? Lows had always loved nature, and are the unknowns that come with it.