Fallen Wings (Chapter II) Along the Trail...
Finally we left the "clearing". Now that I look back on it, that wasn't a very good name for it. The "clearing" was nothing more than part of the trail where we would all hang out from time to tme. It was made up of two large piles of sand. We would play hide and seek there all the time. It was considered home base. Who ever was it, would stand at the top and count to fifty. We would all hide in the surrounding palmettos, of course we would have boundries that we couldn't cross, to make it fair. If you could make it back to the clearing without being seen, well you were clear, hence the name.
We strolled down the trail that was wide enough for us to go two by two. In the front was John and myself. I wore camoflauge pants, my A-team shirt and a pair of Nike sneakers. My fake Rambo survival knife strapped to my side, and my backpack full of supplies. John was to my right, he stood a little taller than the rest of us, and he always had a very serious look on his face. It seemed that he never combed his ratty blonde hair. He wore a blue and red striped shirt with a pair of jeans. He was carrying his backpack and my tent as well as having his axe tied to his back. Somewhere on him was his old swiss army knife. He never left his house without it, he called it his best friend.
Next in our troop of misfits, was Dennis and Jennifer. Dennis looked like any other kid, except he had an unusually large head that was topped with straight blonde hair. He was wearing what he always wore, whenever we would go out into the woods. His grey Navy shirt and a pair of blue dress shorts with a pair of hightops. Then to his side was Jennifer. She was short and slight of stature, with strawberry blonde hair, and the cutest freckles you would ever have seen. She wore the same hightops as her brother, mostly because she idolized him. Always in jeans and a little pink shirt with flowers on it, but don't take her for being weak. If she got a chance she could tak down any one of us at any time. She was one tough cookie. I think that is what I liked about her.
Third in formation was Joe, Rusty and Paul. They were doing what the would always do. Walk down the trail pushing and shoving each other. The occasional put your foot under someone's legs and then pushing them with the exclamation " have a nice trip" followed by roars of laughter. These were the cards of the group. Joe was a bit roly poly, his favorite meal was fluffer nutter sandwiches and a glass of milk. He always wore ringer tees and jeans with combat boots. He had a short cropped haircut and a smile always emblazened on his face. Rusty was the country boy of the group, cowboy boots, jeans, and a button down shirt with a cowboy hat shadeing his brown hair. He was skinny as a rail, so we used to call him and Joe, Fat and Skinny. The names came from an old limric we used to sing. Then there was Paul. Paul was short, but built like a fireplug. Boy was he strong. We were only 13 years old, but he could lift the front end of a '71 Beetle VW. He was dressed in a sleeveless shirt and red shorts with running shoes on.
It was already ten in the morning and we were supposed to be at our camp site by 9:30. Just like normal timing for us. We had atleast a half hour walk ahead of us on the trail and then another forty-five minutes making our way through the brush.
***
"Hey John, if I am right we aren't going to get to the camp site until noon, that is way behind schedule." I said.
"Yeah, we took a little too long finding the axe and the tent. We should have done that last night, instead of plying Monopoly."
"It sure was a good game though."
"Yep, I totally kicked your butt Ron."
"Whatever, I would have had you if I was the race car, you know that is my favorite, that is why you took it first."
John just erupted into laughter at that point. He always knew how to push my buttons and to frazzle me. He was good at it to.
The trail ahead writhed along like a serpent, twisting and turning. About half way down the trail we came across the race trac. It wasn't much of one. Only a small circle about 90ft. in diameter that you could ride your bmx bike around. Whenever we took our bikes out, we would always take a few laps around it before heading on down the trail, but no time for that today. We were on a mission.
Finally we left the "clearing". Now that I look back on it, that wasn't a very good name for it. The "clearing" was nothing more than part of the trail where we would all hang out from time to tme. It was made up of two large piles of sand. We would play hide and seek there all the time. It was considered home base. Who ever was it, would stand at the top and count to fifty. We would all hide in the surrounding palmettos, of course we would have boundries that we couldn't cross, to make it fair. If you could make it back to the clearing without being seen, well you were clear, hence the name.
We strolled down the trail that was wide enough for us to go two by two. In the front was John and myself. I wore camoflauge pants, my A-team shirt and a pair of Nike sneakers. My fake Rambo survival knife strapped to my side, and my backpack full of supplies. John was to my right, he stood a little taller than the rest of us, and he always had a very serious look on his face. It seemed that he never combed his ratty blonde hair. He wore a blue and red striped shirt with a pair of jeans. He was carrying his backpack and my tent as well as having his axe tied to his back. Somewhere on him was his old swiss army knife. He never left his house without it, he called it his best friend.
Next in our troop of misfits, was Dennis and Jennifer. Dennis looked like any other kid, except he had an unusually large head that was topped with straight blonde hair. He was wearing what he always wore, whenever we would go out into the woods. His grey Navy shirt and a pair of blue dress shorts with a pair of hightops. Then to his side was Jennifer. She was short and slight of stature, with strawberry blonde hair, and the cutest freckles you would ever have seen. She wore the same hightops as her brother, mostly because she idolized him. Always in jeans and a little pink shirt with flowers on it, but don't take her for being weak. If she got a chance she could tak down any one of us at any time. She was one tough cookie. I think that is what I liked about her.
Third in formation was Joe, Rusty and Paul. They were doing what the would always do. Walk down the trail pushing and shoving each other. The occasional put your foot under someone's legs and then pushing them with the exclamation " have a nice trip" followed by roars of laughter. These were the cards of the group. Joe was a bit roly poly, his favorite meal was fluffer nutter sandwiches and a glass of milk. He always wore ringer tees and jeans with combat boots. He had a short cropped haircut and a smile always emblazened on his face. Rusty was the country boy of the group, cowboy boots, jeans, and a button down shirt with a cowboy hat shadeing his brown hair. He was skinny as a rail, so we used to call him and Joe, Fat and Skinny. The names came from an old limric we used to sing. Then there was Paul. Paul was short, but built like a fireplug. Boy was he strong. We were only 13 years old, but he could lift the front end of a '71 Beetle VW. He was dressed in a sleeveless shirt and red shorts with running shoes on.
It was already ten in the morning and we were supposed to be at our camp site by 9:30. Just like normal timing for us. We had atleast a half hour walk ahead of us on the trail and then another forty-five minutes making our way through the brush.
***
"Hey John, if I am right we aren't going to get to the camp site until noon, that is way behind schedule." I said.
"Yeah, we took a little too long finding the axe and the tent. We should have done that last night, instead of plying Monopoly."
"It sure was a good game though."
"Yep, I totally kicked your butt Ron."
"Whatever, I would have had you if I was the race car, you know that is my favorite, that is why you took it first."
John just erupted into laughter at that point. He always knew how to push my buttons and to frazzle me. He was good at it to.
The trail ahead writhed along like a serpent, twisting and turning. About half way down the trail we came across the race trac. It wasn't much of one. Only a small circle about 90ft. in diameter that you could ride your bmx bike around. Whenever we took our bikes out, we would always take a few laps around it before heading on down the trail, but no time for that today. We were on a mission.
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