First Steps

A short story I wrote a while back, trying to be creepy. It's about a lawyer who is asked by a defendant to find something to prove his innocence. He's led to an old shelter in the middle of a valley.

It was a mild day. I threw my bag over my shoulder and trudged over the sticky leaves. Kicking over the scraggly underbrush, I made my way through the centre of the valley. I don’t remember the last time I had worn anything other than a suit and I felt like I had come a long way since I had been stuck inside that dank, confined space with that man.

I recoiled as my foot slammed in to the bare bones of a racoon - its skull crumbling beneath my feet. I wondered what the vegetarians at the firm would have thought of me defiling the body of a dead animal.

Before I knew it, the rumbling sounds of trucks and cars were gone. I had been trudging for a while and the place I was in seemed like it had never been traversed before but I knew it had. I had memorised off by heart the instructions the man had given me through horribly fractured English and I knew that he obviously had been through here before. I took a second on a nearby stone to rest my feet and take a drink of water. The moss crumbled underneath my bum and the cold weather bit in to me. My feet practically steamed once my shoes were off. I had a go at the bleeding scratches on my legs with a rag I had dampened from my bottle but I knew that I would never wear these socks anymore; stained red and brown.

The End

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