Eyes open wide. Adrenalin, panic, confusion. Dirt against my face. Wet leaves try to smother my breath. The gray façade of a large tree stump comes to focus in my view, about two yards away. I can’t move, can’t pick myself up off the ground.
Flashes of memory. Camping in the state park. Awakened. A man with an axe. Big man, large bald head, crazy eyes. Do not like this man. The tree stump, cut smooth, like a tabletop. Dark stains in the wood grain. My memory fades away and I am back in the moment.
Suddenly, movement erupts from behind the tree stump. Thankfully, it is not the big man with the ax. Someone stands. I try to move again, I can not. The person stumbles toward me. I see black Converse All-Star sneakers, like my own, and blue jeans.
The person lurches, walks awkwardly, aimlessly. Thankfully, it is not the big man with the ax. I shift my eyes upward as far as I can see. Soft flannel shirt, white and brown. Looks familiar.
The person stumbles over a tree root and falls to the ground alongside of me. Stillness. On his shirt collar, a Mets pin and a American Flag, Veteran’s pin, like the one my father gave me. Around his neck lays a gold chain and cross – the one my wife had given me on my birthday. I move my eyes further. Something is strange; something is wrong with what I am seeing. Then I realize, there is no head, there is no head… there is no head… there… is… no…
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