Burma Trail

Tall shadows tower over me on both sides of the muddy trail. Ferns reach down, grabbing for my woolen beanie. Small shrubs poke out of the undergrowth, nipping at my ankles. Suddenly, the bush beside me rustles, and out jumps a boys silhouette. “BOO!” He yells, raising his hands above his head. (Does he really think I would be scared of that?) I smirk. “Scary.” I say with sarcasm. The girl in front of me grunts with agreement. Although I can’t see his face, I can almost feel his frown of disappointment as he hurries back in line.

Desperately, I open my eyes as wide as they can go, but my vision is still the same. I grip the coarse rope loosely between my fingers, and plunge the other hand into the warmth of my pocket. Giggles and shrieks echo around the forest. Nocturnal bugs stop their loud clicking and chirping as we scramble by. There are rustles and the beat of wings in the treetops high above our heads as the nesting rock wrens and fantails escape our boisterous chatter. Moonlight squeezes through the small gaps in the dense foliage, creating swirling patterns on the ground. The cold caresses me in frigid arms, rocking me gently to the beat of the soft breeze. Perfectly round dew drops descend from the overhanging branches, kissing my nose and forehead. "I'm not going to sleep well tonight!” I think.