Let's Get Lost

by C. H. Smith

Genres: Short Stories; Southern; southern; short story; single character

Synopsis

Storytellers are made... they ain't born. Whether you believe it is God or just the world that shapes them is your own prerogative.
A story about the beauty and sweet decay of a southern swamp, Let's Get Lost, explores the ramifications of losing one's way. The struggle to recall the details of a squirrel hunting trip gone terribly wrong for our narrator in his youth.
Short but rich in detail and emotion that goes beyond the typical hunting tale.

Release date: May 5, 2021

Publisher: Swamp Island Words

Print pages: 10

Sample

You might think it would be difficult to recall the chill of a clear, early January dawn in this torrential downpour, but I assure you, I remember the start of that day with clarity only rivaled by the waters off the shores of Key Largo. I can still feel the crisp air on my cheeks, the damp, pure smell of the swamp in my nostrils. The slightly coarse flannel on my arms and the weight of the shotgun on my shoulder. I can hear the crunch of the rocks under my boots as I turn down the camp road with just the predawn glow as a guide.

                So, you would be wrong if you thought I may have trouble recalling the details of the beginning. Those are clear, sharp, easy to order… However, somewhere along the way, the details get fuzzier. Emotions are dulled and with it my ability to produce a perfect recollection. But by the end, by the time I find the road again, everything is razor sharp once more. So here we go. Let’s get lost.

 

It wasn’t the first time I had driven the old Ford by myself, but it was the first time I had to use the headlights. I was still a couple years away from getting my license, or being legal as the old folks were prone to say, but the faded blue Ford and I were already well acquainted. As she came to a shuddering stop in front of the old camp road, her headlights lit up the shiny metal gate like a beacon in the dead of night. The sun was yet to rise and only the faintest glow to the east and the disappearing stars warned of the day to come. It was a cold and damp morning absolutely perfect for moving quietly through the swamp in pursuit of a limit of squirrels for supper that night. I didn’t know it then, but now I can tell you; I was truly alive in that moment. More alive than I had ever been or have been since.