In the night

He looked up to the sky all remnants of daylight were gone.
If he kept perfectly still the pain was bearable.
As he lay in the scrub at the bottom of the cliff , his right leg was grotesquely bent and blood
oozed from the side of his head.
Time was lost to him , he had no idea how much time had passed since he fell.
Not a smart idea to bush walk alone so late in the day.
No one knew where he was and his mobile phone lay smashed on a rock, just outside his
reach.
His dry parched throat screamed for a drink, then he remembered the drink bottle was in his
bum pack.
He took a deep breath, gritted his teeth as he twisted and turned, desperate to reach the bum
pack he was now lying on.
With an almighty grunt and ignoring the pain he managed to grasp hold of his bag.
Dragging it onto his chest , he was able to unzip it and finally the reward his drink bottle was out.
With fingers trembling he unscrewed the cap and raised the bottle to his dry lips.
He resisted the urge to gulp it all down, instead just sipping the cool refreshing liquid.
Caution was needed; he had no idea how long the water would need to last.
A sudden rustling in the bush, gave him momentary hope was help here after all.
That hope was soon dashed as a kangaroo appeared from the dark.
Giving him a disinterested look the kangaroo hopped of into the night.
Realisation that he was in serious trouble with no sign of help , he trembled with fear and a tear
rolled down his cheek.
How has it come to this he pondered.
Three days ago his world was fine, in fact more than fine , he'd been on top of the world.
His girl had said yes and they were starstruck with plans and dream's.
Why had he been walking out here all alone, it made no sense.
The more he tried to work it out the more foggy his head became.
Would she be worried, could she be looking for him , mind you if he didn't know why or how he
got here , why would she.
As uncomfortable as he was he must have drifted into some sort of sleep.

In the early hours of the morning as he tossed in his slumber, he thought he heard her voice.
Was it her had she found him.
WAKE UP you darling man , you've had one very bad dream.

 

 

Andrew Ballard is a 60-year-old living in South Australia 

and only recently started writing flash fiction and free verse poetry.