The
Trek
The
day was bright; the air hot and steamy. Phillip, a distant relative of Lord
Greystoke, the famous adventurer, knew exactly where he wanted to go, and he
was fully prepared.
The
trail was at first easy, but gradually the undergrowth became dense. If only he
had had his big knife, his progress would have been quicker.
Flying
insects had been woken by the sun’s warmth, and were now playing havoc with his
progress. The constant biting caused him to curse to himself, and from time to
time to exclaim out loud.
Time
was running out and he tried to speed up. This backfired – his clothing now
dragged at the bushes, and he heard the tell-tale sounds of tearing. In his
desperation he dared not look down at the possible damage. Battling on, he
could at last see his destination.
“Morning,
Philip. You look a bit battered if I may say so.”
“Anthony!
You may not, and for the record that’s the last time I try that short cut to
the station you recommended, O.K.?”
By
David Herridge 2015
