My Greatest Hour

Hello again, Porkchaps!  So our good pal Amy has decided to grace us with her presence again with her short story, "My Greatest Hour."  Enjoy!

I knew I should have worn jeans. It had been only minutes and my knees were already aching from the unflinching position I held, crouched in the grass. I was careful not to make a sound or even breathe too loudly. Silence was key. I had no watch but from the way the shadows had moved across the ground I guessed ten minutes might have passed by. I felt a tickle in my nose, no doubt caused by the pollen in the air. I resisted a sneeze. It would give away my position for sure and that was the last thing I needed. I could not be found. I had hidden here before, even leaving my name etched in the bark of one of the trees I used for cover. “Kyle N.” I rubbed my forefinger over the scratches. Even after all these months it still shined clearly. 

A rustle in the distance. I shrunk deeper into the earth. 

“Have we checked here yet?” a voice whispered. 

My body tensed and I held my breath. 

“He’d have to be stupid,” came the reply. 

I let the air escape my lungs slowly. I still wasn’t out of the woods yet. The day was cooling off as the sun began its decent. How much longer did I have to wait? The minutes felt like hours and my legs throbbed in protest. My eyes darted, looking for something to take my mind off the pain. The bush that hid my left side was great cover. My face being inches from the branches, I could see the insects that had made their home there. Caterpillars, ants, spiders, bees…. 

My breath caught and I stifled a yelp. Bees. Who knew they lived in bushes too? I could hear footsteps in the distance reminding me to stay quiet, but inside I was screaming. A single bee was my kryptonite. I suddenly remembered my mother sitting me down when I was little, holding a toy bee in her hands. The toy was only the size of a quarter and looked small in her palm. 

“Kyle, you see this?” 

I nodded. 

And then she threw it against the wall. “Bees are bad.” 

From that moment on I was afraid to hand her any of my toys for fear they would meet the same fate. Later my older sister explained to me that our mom was all about visualizing to make a point. She taught us to always brush our teeth by showing us pictures of rotting molars. I never missed a day after that. 

The buzzing brought me back to reality. I was very practiced at being still and hoped the bee would lose interest soon. I could not afford to be found. I had been, in a sense, training for this moment for quite a long time. The disciplines, endurance, patience, strategy, all are things I had been building up in my life, undoubtedly for this very moment. The bee would not get to me. If I was stung, at least I would still be hidden, albeit passed out and hardly breathing. I would conquer the bee. And so I sat. 
Time continued to crawl by. My stomach grumbled. Food, it groaned. I looked down at my middle, knowing there was nothing I could do to satisfy it without revealing my position. I only wished it wouldn’t be so loud. I had almost lost feeling in my legs now.

The crouching stance I held was too much to keep so I resorted to sitting with my legs pulled up to my chest. Hopefully I would not need a quick getaway. There would be some difficulty in my escape if I had to rush out of my hiding place. Definitely scratches and maybe even some ripped clothes. But I didn’t need to think about that. I was perfectly undisclosed. No chance my pursuers would find me. 
The sun was nearly gone and it seemed I had avoided capture. But it wasn’t over yet. The darkness was on my side now and I would use it to my advantage. Just a few more minutes…. 

A warm breeze flowed through the bushes and touched my face. It was soothing and refreshing. Had long had I been there? I racked my brains but it only made me yawn. For a moment I closed my eyes. 

A whistle blew and I jumped, bumping my head into a low branch. A sudden feeling of tickling made my skin crawl. It was dark, but I could feel little somethings inching their way across my scalp and arms. The need to yell was rising in my throat but I fought it. Instead I held my breath and began batting at my skin. It felt like fire ants biting and stinging. As much as I was put off by the attack, I was silently thankful it wasn’t a bee. I managed to shake all the ants off but now a burning sensation was taking over my skin. I resisted the urge to scratch by concentrating on where the whistle might have come from. Was it an alarm? Were they regrouping? Was I still safe? I peered through the bush forcing myself to see through the black. My eyes were met with an interesting sight. A dog was staring right back at me. Its muzzle was not that of a friendly dog, but one that would love to see what I tasted like. 

I had another instant vision of my mother. She was holding a piece of bacon in front of a stray dog that had wandered into our back yard. She walked to the gate and threw the bacon as far as she could. The dog bolted after the meat and my mother promptly shut the gate. Part of me wished desperately for some bacon, the other part of me realized just how often my mother threw things. With my left hand, I felt along the earth for a rock or stick. Maybe this dog was just lonely. While tossing the object might jeopardize my position, I figured publicity was not worse than death. 

I leaned up, raised my hand and threw the stick over the bush. For a split second I thought it hadn’t worked, the dog was still staring me dead in the eye. After the longest second of my life, the dog spun around and darted after the stick. I knew he would be back, and it was for that reason I decided to come out of hiding. I crawled out of the bush, careful not to bump anything too hard for fear of more ants, or even worse, bees. The open air hit me like a ton of bricks, and so did the sounds to follow. 

“There he is!” 

“Get him!” 

“KYLE!” 

I jumped, seeing the dark figures of my pursuers in the distance. I whipped my head, spotting my new destination and took off, running as fast as my cramped legs would take me. Their feet pounded the ground behind me, but I could barely hear it over the sound of my own gasping for breath. 

They were closing in, but I was still faster. I had been training for this moment. I saw the spot, my sanctuary. I threw my body onto the sacred ground mere seconds before my pursuers reached the same speck of land. I was safe. 

“I won!” I gasped. I couldn’t quite see, but I could feel the glares. 

“Whatever,” I heard Aaron say. “Wanna go another round?” 

I closed my eyes, exhaustion setting in, my body sprawled out on the grass. “Not it!” 

“Not it!” 

“Not it!” 

“Not it!” 

“Hey! I was it last time!” 

“You were also slowest last time. We can’t help that.” 

Aaron grabbed my hand and pulled me up to my feet. The five of us trekked out into the darkness for another epic game of hide and seek.

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Remember to check out Amy's blog, This Is Why I Write!